The plays of Shakespeare

THE

PLAYS

OF

SHAKESPEARE,

IN NINE VOLUMES.
VOL. VI.

lONDON :
WILLIAM PICKERING,
CHANCEBT LANE.
MDCCCXXV.

SHAKESPEARE.

VOL. VI.
KING HENRY VI. Part 111.

KING niCHARD III.

KING HENRY Vni.
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

KING HENRY VI,

PART III.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA

King HENRY the Sixth ;
EDWARD, piince of Wales, his son.
I,EWIS XI. king of Fiance.
Duke of SOMERSET. Duke of EX-")

ETER. Earl of OXFORD. Earl I lords on

of NORTHUMBERLAND. Earl > K. Henry's
of WESTMORELAND. Lord \ side.

CLIFFORD. J
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, duke of York :
EDWARD, earl of March, afterwards

king Edward IV. /
EDMDND, earl of Rutland, Shissor
GEORGE, afterwards duke of Clarence. \
RICHARD, afterwards duke ofOIocester, J
Duke of NORFOLK,
Marquis of MONTAGUE, J

Lord HASTINGS, V
Lord STAFFORD, /
Sir JOHN MORTIMER, I nncles to the duke of
Sir HUGH MORTIMER, t York.
HENRY, earl of Richmond, a youth.
Lord RIVERS, hrother to lady Grey. Sir WIL-
LIAM STANLEY. Sir JOHN MONTGO-
MERY. Sir JOHN SOMERVILLE. Tutor
to Rutland. Mayor of York. Lieutenant of the
Tower. A Nobleman. Two Keepers. A Hunts-
man. A Son that has killed his father. A Fa-
ther that has killed his son.

Queen MARGARET.

Lady GREY, afterwards queen to Edward IV.
BONA, sister to the French queen.

Soldiers, and other Attendants on King Henry and
King Edward, Messengers, Watchmen, &c.

Sccne,~during part of the third act, in France t
during all the rest of the flay in England.

Earl of WARWICK,
Earl of PEMBROKE,

Act 5. 5c 5-

FuUlshedt?)- W.Fick#ring S7. Chancery lane i8:Vr

KING HENRY VI.

PART HI.

ACT I. SCENE I.
London. The Parliament-house.
Drums. Some Soldiers of York's partt/ hrenk in.
Then, Enter the Duke of YORK, IJDWARD,
KICHARD,NORFOLK,MONTAGUJE,WAR-
WICK and Others, with tekile roses in their
hats.

H'ttr. I wonder, how the kin(( escapM our hands*

York. Wliih' we pursu'dthd horsemen of theuorth*
He sliiy stole away, and Itfft his men :
"Whereat the gwat lord of Northumberland,
AVhose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Cheer'd up iKe droopini,' anviy; and himself,
I-oid Clifford, and lord" Stafford, all a-breast,
Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in.
Were by the swords of common soldiers elain.

Edw. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Buckingham,
Is either slain, or wounded dangerous;
I clefi his beaver with a downiright blow ;
That this is true, father, behold his blood.

[Showing his bloody stDord.

Mont. And, brother, here's the earl of Wilt-
shire's blood, [7b York, showing his.
Whom I encoiniter'd as the batlles joiuM.

Rich. Speak thou forme, and tell them what I did.
\^Titrf}wing down the duke of Somerset's head,

York. Richard hath bast deserv'd of all my sons. —
What, is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset ?

\or/. Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt !

/tich. Thus do I hope to shake king Henry'shead.

ft'ar. And so do I. — Victorious prince of York,
Before I see thee seated in that throue

4

THIRD PART OF Actl.

"WhicK now the house of Lancaster usurps,
I vow by heaven, these eyes shall never close.
This is the palace of the fearful king.
And this the regal seat: possess it, Vork:
For this is thine, and not king Henry's heirs.

York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will;
For hither we have broken in by force.

Not/. We'll all assist yon ; he, that flies, shall die.

York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk,— Stay by me, my
lords ; —

And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me this night.
fFar. And, when the king comes, oflfer him no
violence.

Unless he seek to thrust you out by force.

\Thei^ retire.

York. The queen, this day, here holds her par-
liament,

But little thinks we shall be of her council:
By words, or blows, here let us win our right.

Rich. Arm'd as we are,let's stay within this house.

fVar. The bloody parliament shall this be call'd.
Unless Planta£(enet, duke of York, be king;
And bashful Henry deDos'd, whose cowardice
Hath made us by-words to our enemies.

York, Then leave me not, my lords ; be resolute;
I mean to take possession of my right.

fVar. Neither the king, nor he that loves him best.
The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,
Dares stir a mng, if Warwick shake his hells.
I'll plant Planlagenet, root him up who dares: —
Resolve thee, Richard ; claim tbe English crown.

[fF'trwick leads York to the throne, who seats
himself.

Flourish. Enter King HEXRY, CLIFFORD,
NORTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND,
EXETER, and Others, with red roses m their
hats.

K. Hen . My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits.
Even in the chair of state ! belike, he means,
(Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer,)
To aspire unto the crown, and reign as king. —
Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father ; —
And thine, lord Clifford ; and you both have vow'd
revenge

On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends.
NorCh. If I be n^t, heavens, be reveng'd oa me 1

Sc. 1. KING HENRY VI.

5

Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in
steel.

tl'est. What, shall we suffer this? let's pluck
him down :
My heart for »nger burns, I cannot brook it.

K. Hen. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland.

Clif. Patience is for poltroons, and such as he;
He durst not sit there, had your father liv'd.
My gracious lord, here in the parliament
Let us assail the family of York.

North. Well hast thou spoVen, cousin ; be it w.

A'. lien. Ah, know you not, the city favours them^
And they huvc troops of soldiers at thi?ir beck!

£a'c. But, when the duke is slain, they'll quickly fly,

K. Htn. Far be the thought of this from Henry's
heart.

To make a shambles of the parliament-house !
Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats.
Shall be the war, that Heni-y means to use. —

XThcy advance to the Duke.
Thou factious duke of York, descend my throne.
And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet ;
I am thy sovereign.

York. Thou art deceiv'd, I am thine.

JPj'C. For shame, come down ; he made thee duko
of York.

York. 'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was.
J^.re. Thy father was a traitor to the crown.
/i'ar. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown.
In followini; this usurping Henry.

Cli/. whom should he follow but his natural
kinn I

/far. True, Clifford; and that's Richard, duke of
York.

K. Han. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my
throne f

York. Jt must and shall be so. Content thyself.

fVar. Be duke of Lancaster, let him l>e king.

ff'est. He is both king and duke of Lancaster;
And that the lord of Westmoreland shall maintain.

/rar. And Warwickshalldisproveit. You forget.
That we are those, which chas'd you from the field.
And slew your fathers, and with colours spread
March'd through the city to the palace gates.

sXorth. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief;
And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.

ff'est. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons.

THIRD PART OP Act 1.

Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives.
Than drops of blood were in my father's veins.

Clif. Urge it no more ; lest that, instead of words,
T send thee, Warwick, such a messenger.
As shall revenge his death, before I stir.

fi^'ar. Poor Cliflord ! how I scorn his worthless
threats !

York. Will you, we show our title to the crown ?
If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.

K. Hen. What title hast thou, traitor, to thd
crown ?

Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York ;

Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, earl of March ;

1 am the son of Henry the fifth,

"Who made the dauphiu and the French to stoop.

And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces.

fVar. Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.

K. Hen. llie lord protector lost it, and not I ;
"When I was crown'd, I was but nine months old.

Rick. You are old enough now, and yet, methinks
you lose : —

Father, tear the crown from the usui-per's head.
Edio. Sweet fatlier, do so ; set it on your head.
Mont. Good brother, [ 7u York.'\ as thou lov'st
and honour'st arms.
Let's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus.
JRich. Sound drums and trumpets, and the king

will fly.
York. Sous, peace !

K.Hen. Peace thou! and give king Henry leavs
to speak.

fVar. Plantagenet shall speak first; — hear him,
lords ;

And be you silent and attentive too,

For he, that interrupts him, shall not live.

K.Hen. Think'st thou, that I will leave my
kingly throne,

Wherein my grandsire, and my father, sat?

No : first shall war unpeople this my realm ;

Ay, and their colours — often borne in France ;

And now in England, to our heart's great sorrow,—

Shall be my winding sheet. — Why faint you, lords ?

My title's good, and better far than his.

fVar. But prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king,
K.Hen. Henry the fourth by conquest got the
crown.

York, 'Twaa by reViellion against his king.

Sc. 1. KING HENRY VI. 7

A'. Hen. I know not what to say ; my title's weak.
Tell me, may not a king adopt au heir?
JW*. What then

A'. Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful kini;-
For Richard, in the view of many lords,
Resign'd ths crown to Henry tlie fourth;
Whose heir my father was, and I am his.

)W*. He rose agiiinst him, Iwing his sovereign.
And made turn lo resign his crown perforce.

fi ar. Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstraiu'd,
Ihmk you, twere prejudicial to his crown T

Kxe. No ; for he could not so resi»{u his crown.
But_ that the next heir should succeed and reign.

A . Hen. Art thou against us, duke of i:xeter *

■?"^*/ ^ir^^^ '^^ "S'"' therefore pardon me.

iOTk. Why whisper you, my loi-ds, and answer
not r

K^e. My conscience Iclls mc he is lawful kinpr.
A . Hen. All will revolt from me, and turn to him
A«rM. Plantaffenet, for all tha claim thou lay'st'
Thmk not that Henry shall be so depos'd.
JVar. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of all.
AarfA. Thou art deceiv'd : 'us not thy southern
power,

Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,—

Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,

Can set the duke up, in despite of me.
1 ^^V'r.^^^^ Henry, be thy title riijht or ivrong,
Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence :
May that (jround gape, and swallow me alive,
Wher« I shall kneel to him, that slew my father!
h.Hen. O Cliftord, how thy words revive mv
heart! '
>bri. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown
What mutter you, or what conspir« you, loi-ds ?

'Y''"- JJo right unto this princely duke of York:
L } , '^ouse with armed men.

And, o'er the chair of state where now he sits.
Write up his title with usurping blood.

stamps, and the Soldiers show themsehyes.
A. Hen. My lord of War^vick, hear but one
word

Let me, for this my life-time, reign as kintc.

iurk. Confirm the crou^l to me, and to min'e heirs,
t' V,'**" ^^"^^^ "'S" qni^'i while thou Uvfst.
h.Hen. I am content: Richard Plautagenet,

*.njoy the kingdom after my decease.

8

THIRD PART OF Act I.

Clrf. What wrong is this unto the prince vour son ?
fVar. What good is this to England, and himself ?
' fVest. Base, feaiful, and despairing Henry!
Clif. How hast thou injur'd both thyself and us I
fVest. I cannot stay to' hear these articles.
North, Nor I.

Clif. Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these
news .

fVest. Fare well, faint-hearted and degenerate Icing,
In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.

North. Be thou a prey unto the house of York,
And die in bands for this unmanly deed !

Clif. In dreadful war may'st thou be overcome !
Or live in peace, abandon'd, and despis'd !

{Exeunt Northumberland, Cl'_foTd, and
f Westmoreland.
fVar.Tivtn this way, Henry, aud regard them not.
Exe. They seek revenge, and therefore will not

yield.
K.Hen. Ah, Exeter!

fVar, Why should you sigh, my lord ?

K. Hen. Not for myself, lord Wai-wick,but my son.
Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.
But, be it as it may : — I here entail
The crown to thee, and to thine heirs for ever ;
Conditionally, that here thou take an oath
To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live.
To honour me as thy king and sovereign ;
And neither by treason, nor hostility,
To seek to put me down, and reign thyself.

York. This oath I willingly take, and will per-
form. \^Coming from the throne.
JVar. Long live king Henry !— Plantagenet, em-
brace him.

K.Hen. And long live thou, and these thy for-
ward sons!

York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd.
Exe. Accurs'd be he, that seeks to make them
foes ! \Semt. The Lords come forward.

York. Farewell, my gracious lord ; I'll to my

fVar. And I'll keep London, with my soldiers.
Norf. And I to Norfolk with my followers.
Mont. And I unto the sea, from whence I came.
\Eaeunt York and his Sons, IVarwick, Nor'
folk, Montague, Soldiers, and attendants.
K.Hm. And I, with grief and sorrow, to thecourU

Sc. 1.

KING HKNRY VI.

9

F.nter Queen MARGARET andtkePrtncs of TVales.

Ext. Here comes the queen, whose looks benray
her anger :
I'll steal away.

K.Hen. Exeter, so will I. IGoing,

Q. MttT. Nay, cjo not from me, I will follow thee.

A. Hen. Be pntien*, gentle queen, and I will stay.

Q.Mar. Whu can be patient in suoh extremes I
Ah, wretched man ! 'would I had died li maid.
And never seen thee, never borne thee son,
Seeing thou hant prov'd so unnatural a father !
Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus ?
Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I ;
Or felt that pain, which I did for him once ;
Or nourish'd him, as I did with my blood;
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood
there.

Rather than made that savage duke thiue heir.
And disinherited thine only son.

Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me :
If vou be king, why should not I succeed?
K.Hen. Fardon me, Margaret; — pardon me,
sweet son ; —
The earl of Warwick, and the duke, enforc'd me.
Q. Mar. Enforc'd thee ! art thou king, and wilt
be forc'd ?

I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch !
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me ;
And given unto the house of York such head.
As thou shalt reign hut by their sufferance.
To entail him and his heirs unto the croivn,
"What is it but to make thy sepulchre,
And creep into it far before thy time?
Warwick is chancellor, and the lord of Calais ;
Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow seas j
The duke is made protector of the realm ;
And yet shalt thou be safe ? such safety finds
The trembling lamb, environed with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly woman.
The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes.
Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour ;
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself,
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of parliament be repeal'd.
Whereby my son is disinherited.

10

THIRD PART OF Act 1.

The northern lords, that have forsworn thy colours.
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread :
And spread they shall be ; to thy foul disgrace.
And utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee : — Corae, son, let's away ;
Our array's ready; come, we'll after them.

K. lien. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me spealc.

Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already ; get
thee gone.

K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with
me ?

Q. Mht, Ay, to be murder'd by hig enemies.
Prince. When I return with victory from the fields
I'll see your grace: till then, I'll follow her.

Q. Mar. Come, son, awfty : we may not linger thug.

[^Exeunt Queen Margaret, and the Prince.
K. Hen. Poor queen ! how love to me, and to her
son.

Hath made her break out into terms of rage!
Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke ;
Whose haughty spirit, ^vinged with desire.
Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle.
Tire on the flesh of me, and of my son !
The loss of those three lords torments my heart :
I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair ; —
Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
E3:e. And I, I hope, shall reconcile thera all,

{Exeunt H

SCENE II.

A room in Sandal castle, near H^ci^Jleld in
Yorkshire.

^;?;frEDWARD,RICHARD,an(iMONTAGUE.
Rich. Brother, though I be youngest.give me leave.
Edw. No, I can better play the orator.
Alont. Rut I have reasons strong and forcible.

Enter YORK.
York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a strife?
What is your quan-el? how began it first?
ICdw. No quarrel, but a slight contention.
York. About what?

Rich. About that, which concerns your grace,
and us ;

The crown of England, father, which is yours.
Yori. Mine, boy? not till king Henry be dead.
Bich. Your right depends aot oa his life, or death.

Sc. 2. KING HENRY VI.

11

Kdw. Now yoft are heir, therefore etijoy it now :
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe.
It will outrun you, father, in the end.

y'orjt. I took an oath, that he should quietly reign.

Kdie, But, for a kingdoRi, any oath may be hroken :
I'd break a thousund oaths, to reign one year,

Jiick. No ; God forbid, your grace should be
forsworn .

York. I shall be, if 1 claim by open war.
iiich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me
speak.

Tork. 'I'hoa canst not, son ; it is impossible. .
Jiick. An oath is of no motnent, beiuy not took
Before a true and lawful magistrate,
'I'hat hath authority over him that swears :
Henry had none, but did usurp the place ;
Tlien, seeing 'twas he, that made you to depose.
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
Therefore, to arms : And, father, do but think.
How sweet a thing it is to wear a cro-wn :
Within whose circuit is Elysium,
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest.
Until the white rose, that I wear, be dyed
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.

York. Richard, enough ; I will be king or die. —
Broiher, thou shalt to London presently,
Aud whet on Wanvick to this enterprise.—
'ITiou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk,
And tell him privily of our intent.—
You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise :
In them I trust; for they are soldiers.
Witty and courteous, liberal, full of spirit.—
While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more.
But that I seek occasion how to rise ;
And yet the king not privy to my drift.
Nor any of the house of Lancaster 1

Enter a Messenger.
But, stay; What news? Why com 'st thou in such
post t

Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls
and lords,

Intend here to besiege you in your castle :
She is hard by with twenty thousand men;
And therefore fortify your hold* my lord.

12

THIRD PART OF Actl.

York. Ay, with my sword. What ! think'st thoa
that we fear them ?
Edward aiid Richard, you shall stay with me ;—
My brother Montague shall post to JLondon :
Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest.
Whom we have left protectors of the king,
With powerful policy strengthen themselves.
And trusC not simple Henry, nor his oaths.

Mom. Brother, I go ; I'll ^\-in them, feav it not;
And thus most humbly I do take my leave. [Exit.

Enter Sir JOHN and Sir HUGH MORTIMER.
Yor/:. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine
uncles I

You are come to Sandal in a happy hour ;
The army of the queen mean to basiege us.

Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in
the field.

YurX:. What, with five thousaftd men ?
Rich. Ay, with rive hundred, father, for a need.
A woman's genera!; What should we fear ?

jnarch afar off.

EdiD. I hear tlieir drums ; let's set our men iu
order ;

And issue forth, and bid them battle straight.
York. Five men to twenty! —though the odds 1»
great,

I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
Many a battle have I won in France,
When as the enemy hath been ten to one ;
Why should I not now have the like success ?

l^larum. Exeunt.

SCENE nr.

Plains near Sandal Castle.
.Alarums: Excursions. Enter RUTLAND md
his Tutor.

Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands!
Ah, tutor I look, where bloody Clifford comes!

Enter CLIFFORD, and Soldiers.

Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy lift.
As for the brat of this accursed duke.
Whose father slew my father, — he shall die.

2'ut. And I, my lord, will bear him company.

Cii/. Soldiers, away with him.

So. 3. KING HENRY VI. 13

Tut. Ah, Clifford ! murder not this innocent child.
Lest thou be hated both of God and man.

{E^it, forced off" by Soldiers.

C/if. How now ! is he dead already f Or, is it fear.
Thai makes him close his eyes ?— Pll open them.

Jiui. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch.
That trembles under his devouring paws:
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey ;
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder, — •
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword.
And not with such a cruel ihreat'ninp look.
.Sweet Cliflord, hear me speak before 1 die; —
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath,
Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.

Ciif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's
blood

Hath stopp'd the passage, where thy words should
enter.

Hut. Then let my father's blood open it again;
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives,and thine.
Were not revenge sufficient for me ;
No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves.
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains.
It could not slack mine ire, nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury to torment my soul ;
And till I root out their accursed line.
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore {Wt^^g *flnrf.

Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death : —
To thee I pray ; Sweet Clifford, pity me !

Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.

Rut. I never did thee harm ; Why wilt thou
slay me X

Clif. Thy faUier hath.

But 'twas ere I was borh :
Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me ;
Lest, in revenge thereof, — sith, God is just,—
He be as miserably slain as I.
Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
And when I jrive occasion of offence.
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.

Clif. No cause t
Thy father slew my father ; therefore, die.

{Clifvrd slabs him.

Rut, Diifac'ant, laudis .<vmma sit is(a tua / [/>(«.
115

THIRD FART OF Act 1.

Clif. Plantagenet 1 I come, Plantagenet !
And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade.
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thj^ blood,
Coneeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.
^ [Exit.
SCENE IV.
7'/ie same,
yllarum. Enter YORK.
York. The army of the queen hath got the field;
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me ;
And all my followers to the eager foe
Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind.
Or lambs pursu'd by hunger- starved wolves.
]\iy sons— God knows what hath.; bechanced them :
But this I know,— they have demean'd themselves
Like men born to renown, by life, or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me ;
And thrice cv\e(i,^Couruge, ftither .' fght it out .'
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
"With purple falchion, painted to the hill
In blood of those that had encounter'd him :
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried,— 67<flr^e / and give nofvot of ground!
And cried, — A crown, or else a glorious tomb !

sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre /
With this, we charg'd again : but, out, alas 1
"We bodg'd again ; as I have seen a swan
"With bootless labour swim against the tide.
And spend her strength with over-matching waves.

short Alarum within.
Ah, hark ! the fatal followers do pursue ;
And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury :
And, were 1 strong, I would not shun their fury:
The sands are number'd, that make up my life j
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.

Enter Queen MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NOR-
THUMBERLAND, and Soldiers.
Come, bloody Clifford, — rough Northumberland,—
1 dare your quenchless fury to more rage ; '
1 am your butt, and 1 abide your shot.

North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.

Clif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm,
"With downright payment, show'd unto my father.
Now Phaeton }iath tumbled from his car,

Attd made an evenins nooulide prick.

Sc. 4. KING HENRY VI.

15

York. My ashes, as the phceniic, may hring forth
A bird, Uiat will revenge upoii you all :
And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven,
Sconiing whate'cr you can afflict me with.
Why come you not what ! multitudes, and fear ?

Cii/. So cowards fight, when they can fly no
further ;

So doves do pecl< the falcon's piercing talons ;
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their Uvea,
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.

York, O, Clifford, hut bethink thee once again.
And in thy thought o'er-run my former time:
And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face ;
And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cow-
ardice,

Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this.

C/i/. I will not bandy with thee word for word ;
But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one,

{/JriatiS-,

Q.Afttr. Hold, valiant Clifford ! for a thousand
causes,

I would prolong awhile the traitor's life :

Wrath makes himdeaf:speakthou,Northumberland,

North. Hold, Cliftord ; do not honour him so much.
To prick ihy finger, though to wound his heart:
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin.
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth.
When he mii^lit spurn him with his foot away?
It is war's prir-e to taVe all vantages;
And ten to one is no impeach of valour.

[T/iet; lay hands on York, tcho strugi^lfs.

Ciy. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with tlie gin.

North. So doth the coney struggle in the net.

[York is taken prisoner.

York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd
iHJOty ;

So true men yield with robbers so o'ermatch'd.
yoTth, What would your grace have done unto
him now T

Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Cliflbrd, and Northam-
berland,

Come, make him stand upon this molehill here;
That raught at mountains with out-stretched .irme.
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. —
What ! was it you, that would be England's king?
Was't you, that revell'd in our parliament.
And made a preaghmeut of your high desseat ?

16

THIRD PART OF Actl.

Where are your mess of sons to back you now ?
The wanton Edward, and the lusty George?
And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy,
Dicky your boy, that, with his grumbling voice.
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies t
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland ?
Look, York ; I stain'd this napkin with the blood.
That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point
Made issue from the bosom of the boy :
And if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Alas, poor York ! but that I hale thee deadly,
I should lament thy miserable state.
I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York ;
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thy entrails.
That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death ?
Why art thou patient, man ? thou shouldst be mad ;
And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport ;
York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. —
A crown for York ; — and, lords, bow low to hira. —
Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. —

[Putting a paper crown on his head-
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king !
Ay, this is he, that took king Henry's chair:
And this is he, was his adopted heir. —
But how is it, that great Plantagenet
Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath?
As I bethink me, you should not be king.
Till our king Henry had shook hands with death.
And will you pale your head in Henry's glory.
And rob his temples of the diadem.
Now iu his life, against your holy oath?
O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable! —
Off with the crown ; and, with the crown, his head;
And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.

Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake.

Q.J\far. Nay, stay ; let's hear the orisons he makes.

Jwri*. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves
of France,

Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth !
How iU-be!seeming is it in thy sex.
To triumph like an Amazonian trull.
Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates?
But that thy face is, visor-like, unchangingj
Made jjnpudeat with use of e^-il deeds,

Sc. 4.

KING HENRY VI.

17

T would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush :
To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'd.
Were shame enough to shame thee, wen thou not
shameless.

Thy father bears the type of king of Naples,

Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem;

Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.

Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult ?

It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen;

t'nless the adage must be verified, —

That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death.

'Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud ;

But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small :

*Tis virtue, that doth make them most admir'd ;

The contrary doth make th^e wonder'd ai ;

*Tis government, that makes them seem divine ;

Thp want thereof makes thee abominable:

Thou art as opposite to every good.

As the Antipodes ai'e unto us.

Or as the south to the septentnon.

O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide !

How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the child.

To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
"Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible;
Thou stem, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
JDid'st thou me rage T why, now thou hast thy wish :
Would 'si have me weep ? why, now thou hast thy
will :

For raping wind blows up incessant showers.
And, when the rage allays, the rain begins.
These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies ;
And every drop cries vengeance for his death, —
'Gainst thee, fell Cliftbrd, — and thee, false French-
woman.

North. Beshrew me, but bis passions move me so,
n»at hardly can I check my eyes from tears.

York. That face of his the huncrry cannibals
Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd

^ with blood :
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, —
O, ten times more, — than tigers of Hyrcania.
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears :
This cloth thou dipp'dst m blood of my sweet boy.
And I with tears do wash the blood away.
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this :

[^fe gives hack the handkerchief.

IS

THIRD PART OF Act 2.

And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right.
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears ;
Yea, even my foes will shed fast-fal.ing tears.
And say, — Alas, it was a piteous deed I —
There, take the crown, and,with the crown.my curae;
And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee.
As now I reap at thy too cruel hand ! — ■
Hard-heavted Clitford, take me from tha world;
My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads .'

Nori/i, Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin,
I should not for my life but weep with him.
To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.

Q. Mnr. What, weeping-ripe, my lord North-
umberland !
Think but upon the wrong he did us all.
And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.

Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's
death. \Stahh%n^ him.

Q, Miir. And here's to right our gentle-hearted
king, {Stabbing him.

York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God !

Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York
gates ;

So York may overlook the town of York. {Exeunt.

j1 plain near Mortimer's Cross in Herefordshire.

Drums. Enter EDWARD, and RICHARD with
their Forces, marching.

EdfB. I wonder how our princely father 'acap'd;
Or whether he be 'scap'd away, or no.
From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit ;
Had he been ta'en, we should hiive heard the news;
Had he been slain, we should have heard the news;
Or, had he 'scap'd, methinks, we should have heard
The happy tidings of his goo^l escape. —
How fares my brother? why is he so sad?

Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd
Where our right valiant father is become.
I saw him in the battle range about ;
And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth.
Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop.
As doth a lion in u herd of neat :

through these wounds to seek oHt I
{Pies.

thee.

ACT IT. SCENE I.

Sc. 1.

KING HENRY VI.

19

Or as a bear, encompass'd round with doga;
Who having p'mch'd a few, and made them ory.
The rest stand all aloof, and barl* at him.
So far'd our father with his enemies ;
So fled his enemies my warlike father ;
Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son.
See, how the morning opes her golden gates.
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun !
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trimm'd like a younker, prancintc to his lore!
F.dm. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns f
Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect suu ;
Not separated with the racking clouds,
But tiever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
See, see ! they join, embrace, and seem to tciss.
As if they vow'd some league inviolable :
Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.
In this the heaven fiRures some event.

Kdtti, 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never
heard of.

I think, it cites us, brother, to the field ;

That we, the sons of brave PlantHgenet,

Each one already blazing by our meeds,

Should, notwithstanding, .ioin our lights toeether.

And over-shine the earth, as this the world.

"W'hate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear

Upon my target three fair shining suns.

Rich. Nay, bear three daughters by your leav*
I speak it.

You love the breeder better than the male.

Enter a Messent^er.
But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretel
Some dreadful story, hanging on thy tongue f
Mess. Ah, one, that was a woful looker on,
"When as the noble duke of York was slain.
Your princely father, and my loving lord.

£dw. O, speak no more ! for I have heard to*

much. -11
Rich. Say how he died, for I wnll hear it all.
Mess. Environed he was with many foes ;
'And stood aeainst them as the hope of Troy
Agjonst the Greeks, that would have enter d Troy.
But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; '
And many strokes, though with a little axe.
Hew down and fell the hardest-timber d oak.
■By many hands your father was subdu d ;

30

THIRD PART OF Act 2

But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm

Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen :

Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite;

taugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept.

The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks,

A napkin steeped in the harmless blood

Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain i

And, after many scorns, many foul taunts.

They took his head, and on the gates of York

They set the same ; and there it doth remain.

The Saddest spectacle, that e'er I view'd.

JSdw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon;
Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay! —
O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain
The flower of Europe for his chivalry ;
And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him.
For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd thee !—
?Jow, my soul's palace is become a prison ;
Ah, would she break from hence ! that this my body
Might in the ground be closed up in rest :
For never henceforth shall I joy again,
Never, O never, shall I see move joy.

Jiich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart :
Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden;
For self-same wind that I should speak withal.
Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast.
And burn me up with flames, that tears would
quench.

To weep, is to make less the depth of grief:
Tears, then, for babes ; blows, and revenge, for me !—
Richard, 1 bear thy name, I'll venge thy death.
Or die renowned by attempting it.
Ecito. His name that valiant duke hath left with
thee ;

His dukedom and his chair with me is left.

/itch. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird.
Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun :
For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say;
Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his.

March. Enter WARWICK and MONTAGUE,

with Forces.

fVar. How now, fair lords r What fare ? what

news abroad ?
Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount
Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliveran«.

Sc.l.

KING HENRY VI.

21

Stab poniards in our fiesh, till all were told.
The words would add more anguish than the
wounds.

0 valiant lord, the duke of York is slain.

EdiP. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet,
Which held thee dearly, as hi3 soul's redemption.
Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death.

fVar. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears :
And now, to aad more measure to your woes,

1 come to tell you things, since then befall'n.
After the bloocty fray at Wakefield fought.
Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp.
Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,
AVere brought me of your loss, and his depart.

1 then in London, keeper of the king,
Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends.
And very well appointed, as I thought,
March 'd towards Saint A Iban's to intercept the queen.
Bearing the king in my behalf along :
For by my scouts I was advtrtised.
That she was coming with a full intent
To dash our late decree in parliament,
Touching king Henry's oath, suid your succession.
Short tale to make, — we at Saint Alban's met.
Our battles join*d, and both sides fiercely fought :
But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king.
Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen.
That robb'd my soldiers of their hated spleen ;
Or whether 'twas report of her success ;
Or more than common fear of Clifford's rijjour.
Who thunders to his captives — blood and death,
1 cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth,
Their weapons like to lightning came and went;
Our soldiers' — like the nighl-owl's lazy flight.
Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail, —
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
1 cheer'd them up with justice of our cause.
With promise of high pay, and great rewards :
But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight.
And we, in them, no hope to win the day.
So that we fled ; the king, unto the queen ;
Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself.
In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you;
For in the marches here, we heard, you were.
Making another head to fight again.
jBrfw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle
Warwick i

22

THIRD PART OF Act 2.

And when came George from Burgundy to England f
f^'ar. Some six miles off the duke is with the
soldiers :

And for your brother, — he was lately sent
From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy,
With aid of soldiers to this needful war.

Rick. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick
fled :

Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,
But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire.

fVar. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou
hear :

For thou shalt know, this strong riffhthand of mme
Can pluck the diadem from faint Heniy's head.
And wring the a^vful sceptre from his fist ;
Were he as famous and as bold in war,
As he is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer.
Rich. I know it well, lord Warwick : blame me
not ;

'Tis love I bear thy glories, makes me speak.
Bur, in this troublous time, what's to be done?
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel.
And wrap our bodies in black mourning ^{owns,
Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads T
Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
Tell our devotion with revenyeful arms ?
If for the last, say— Ay, and to it, lords.

fi'ar. Why, therefore Warwick came to seeit
you out ;

And therefore comes my brother Montague.
A'lend me, lords. The proud insultine; queen,
With Cliffbrd and the haught Northumberland,
And of their feather many more proud birds.
Have wri^ught the easy-melting king like wax.
He swore consent to your succession,
"His oath enrolled in the parliament ;
And now to London all the crew are gone.
To frustrate both his oath, and what beside
May make against the house of Lancaster,
Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong:
Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself,
With all the friends, that thou, brave earl of March,
Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure.
Will but amount to five and twenty thousand.
Why, l^ia .' to London will we march amain ;
And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
Aad once again cry — Charge upon our foes'l

Sc. 2. KING HENRY VI.

23

But never once again turn bacV, and fly.

JiicA. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick
speak :

Ne'er may he live to see n sunshine day.
That cries. — Retire, if Warwick bid him stay.

/Cfiw. Lord Warwick, on thj- shoulder will I lean;
And when thou fail'st. (as God forbid the hour!)
Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend !

ff 'ar. No longer earl of March, but duke of Yorkj
The next deRrec England's royal throne :
For kinc of England shall thou he proclaim'd
In every borough as we pass along ;
And he, that throws not up his cap for joy,
Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.
King Edward, — valiant Richard, — Montague, —
•Stay we no longer dreaming of renown.
But sound the trumpets, and about our task.

Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as
steel,

(As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,)
I come to pierce it, — or to give thee mine.
Kdw. Then strike up, drums ; — God, and Saint
George, for us !

Enter a Mesnengtr.
fi'ar. How now ? what news T
Mets. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by me.
The queen is coming with a puissant host ;
And craves your company for s|>eBdy counsel.
fVar. Why then il sorts, brave warriors ; Let'g
away. \_Excunz.

SCENE 11.

Before York.

Enttr A'ing HENRY, Queen MARGARET, Mtf
Princeof H'tiles, CLIFFORD,«nrfNOKTHUM-
BERLAND, with Forces,

' Q. Alar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town
of York.

Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy.
That sought to he encompass'd with your crown :
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?
A'. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them, that fear
their wreck ; —
To see this sight, it irks my very soul.—
Withhold revenge, dear God ! 'tis not my fault.

34

THIRD PART OF Act 3,

Not wittingly have I infring'd my vow.

CUf. My gracious liege, this too much lenity
And harmful pity, mUst be laid aside.
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?
Not to the beast, that would usurp their den,
"Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick f
Not his, that spoils her young before her face.
Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting?
Not he, that sets his foot upon her back.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on;
And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown.
Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows ;
He, but a duke, would have his son a king,"
And raise his issue, like a loving sire ;
Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son.
Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
AVhich argued thee a most unloving father.
Unreasonable creatures feed their young:
And though mnn's face be fearful to their eyes.
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seen them (even with those wings,
Which sometime they have us'd with feai-ful flight,)
Make war with him, that climli'd unto their nest.
Offering their own lives in their young's defence?
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent I
Were it not pity, that this goodly hoy
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault;
And long hereafter say unto his child, —
fVkat my great-grandfather and grandsire got.
My careless father fondly eare nwny ?
Ah, what a shame were this ! Look on the boy;
And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart.
To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him.

K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator.
Inferring arguments of miE;hty force.
But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,—
That things ill got had ever bad success?
And happy always was it for that son.
Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ?
I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ;
And 'would my father had left me no move !
For all the rest is held at such a rate,
As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep.
Than in possession any jot of pleasure.
Ah) cousin York 1 'would thy best friends did know.

Sc. 2. KING HENRY VI. 25

How it doth grieve me, tliat thy head is here '

Q. Afar. % lord, cheer up your spirits our
foes are mgh,
And this soft courage malces your followers faint
You promis'd knighthood to our forward son ■
Unsheath your sword, and dub him preseutlv —
Edward, kneel down.

K.fien. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight;
And learn this lesson,— Draw thy sword in right.
i>.f j "'"'" -^'y gracious father, by your kingly leave,
J il draw It as apparent to the crown.
And in that quarrel use it to the death.

Clt/. ^^■hy, that is spoken like a toward prince.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness :
For, with a band of thirty thousand men,
Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York;
And, in the towns as they do march along,
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him :
Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.

CV(/. I would your highness would departthe field:
Tjie queen haih best success, when you are absent.

Q.Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our
fortune.

K. Hen. Why, that's my fortime too; therefore
I'll stay.

North. Be \x with resolution then to fight.

Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords.
And hearten those, that fight in your defence :
Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Stiint George!

March. ^T/J^fr EDWARD,GEORGE, RICHARD
WARWICK, NORFO;.K, MONTAGUE, and
Soldiers.

Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel for
grace.

And set thy diadem upon my head ;
Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ?

iLiT uiuiMi luiiLLtJc ui ine neia :
Q- Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms.
Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful kinn?

Edw. I am his king, and he should bow^his knee :
I was adopted heir by his consent :
Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear.
You— that are king, though he do wear the crown,—
UaTe caus*d him, by uew act of parliament,

26

THIRD PART OF Act 2.

To blot out me, and put his own son in.

Clif. And reason too ;
Who should succeed the father, but the son ?

Rick. Are you there, butcher ? — O, I cannot speak !

Clif. Ay, crook-back ; here I stand, to aaswcr thee,
Or any he the proudest of thy sort.

Rich. 'Tivas you, that kill'd young Rutland, ivas
it not

Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.
Rich. For God's sake, lords,give signal to the fight.
fVar. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield
the crown I

Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd War-
wick? dare you speak ?
When you and I met at Saint Alban's last.
Your legs did better service than your hands.

fi''ar. 'ITien 'twas my tuni to fly, and now 'tis thine.
•■ Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled.
fVar. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me
thence.

North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make
you stay.

Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently ;—
Break otF the pavle ; for scarce I can refrain
The execution of my big-swoln heart
Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

Oif. 1 slew thy father ; Call'st thou him a child I
Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous
coward.

As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ;
But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed.
K.JIen. Have done with words, my lords, and

hear me speak,
Q.Mnr. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.
K. Hen. I pr'ylhee, give no limits to my tongue;
I am a king, and privileg'd to speak.

Clif. My liege, the wound, that bred this meet-
ing here,

Cannot be cur'd by words ; therefore be still.

Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword;
By Him that made us all, I am resolv'd.
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.

Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or nor
A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day.
That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the eromJ.

IVnr. If thou deny, their blood upon thy heaOj

For York in justice puts Ms armour oa.

Sc. 2. KING HENRY VI. 2

'''""ri^ht' ^ '"^"'^ Warwick says i

O Af^i K ^^l' °" "«»l>"'s tongue.

Jlut like a foiil mishapcu siigmatick,
Mark d by the destinies to be avoided.
As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.
■oK f i" "[ ^'Plss. l"d "ith Enelisir,;ile.
. Whose father bears the Utle of a kins, ^ '
(As .f a channel should be call'd the sea.)
Sham St thou not, knowing whence thou art ei-
traugnf.

To let thy tongue delect thy base-born heart'

crown °^ ""^^ ^ thousand

To make this' shameless callet know herself.—
Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,
AlthouRh thy husband may be Menelaus ■
And ne er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd
«y that false woman, as this king by thee.
His father revell d in the heart of Prance,

T'aM^° king and made the Dauph n stoop ■
And, had he match'd according to his state, ^
He might have kept that glory to this day :
^ut, when he took a beggar to his bed.
And grac d thy poor sire with his bridal day •

lhat wash d h.s father's fortunes forth of Prance'

And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.

!• or what hath bioach'd this inmuli, but thy pride'

Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept ■ '

And we, m pity of the gentle king.

Had shpp'd our claim until another age.

s rhl' ^^"^ sunshine made thy

And that thy summer bred us no increase,
A J ^t' *>■ ■Jsi'T'ng root :

And though the edge hath something hit ourselves
\v .11 " l'«Sun to strike,

nW .u'.Ti' ""' tl>ee down,

ur bath d Ihy growing with our Iieated bloods.

And, in this resolution, 1 defy thee;
not willing any longer conference,
Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.—

bound uiimpets !— let our bloody coJoitts wave

28 THIRD PART OF Act 2.

And either victory, or else a grave.
Q.Mar. Stay, Edward.

Edw. No, wrangling woman ; we'll no longer stay :
These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.
A field of buttle between Towton and Saxton in

■' YuTks}ixre.
Alarums: Excursions. Enter WARWICK.
fVar. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,
I lay me down a little while to breathe:
For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid.
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength.
And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.
Enter EDWARD, running.
Edw. Smile, gentle heaven ! or strike, ungentle
death ! . ■, 3 a

For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded,
/far. How now, my lord ! what hap t what
hope of good ?

Enter GEORGE.
Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair;
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us :
What counsel give you, whither shall we fly?

Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings J
And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.

Enter RICHARD.
Bich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn
thyself T

Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath dmnk,
Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance :
And, in the very pangs of death, he cried,—
Like to a dismal clangor heard from far, —
ff'arwick, revenge ! brother, revenge my death
So underneath the belly of their steeds.
That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood.
The noble geiilleman gave up the ghost.

fVar. Then let the earth be drunken with our
blood :

III Idll my horse, because I will not fly-
Why stand we like soft-hearted women here.
Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage ;

Sc. 4. KING HEXRY VI. 29

And looTc upon, as if the tragedy

"Wcro play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?

Here on my knee I vow to God above,

I'U never pause again, never stand stiU,

Till either death hath clou'd those eyes of mine.

Or fortune given me measure of revenge.^

Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine :
And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.-—
And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,
1 throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee.
Thou setter up and plucker down of kings !
Beseeching thee,— it with thy will it stands,
That to my foes this Iwdy must he prey, —
Yet that thy braxen gates of heaven may ope.
And give sweet passage to my sinful soul !—
Now, lords, take leave, until we meet again,
Where-e'er it lie, in heaven, or on earth.

Rich. Brother, give me thy hand ;— and, gentl«
Warwick,

Let me embrace thee in my weary arms .—
I, that did never weep, now melt with woe.
That winter should cut off our spring-time so.
fVar. Away, awayl Once more, sweet lords,
farewell.

Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops,
And give them leave to fly, that will not stay ;
And call them pillars, that will stand to tis ;
And, if we tlirivc, promise them such reward*
I As victors wear at the Olympian games :

This may plant courage in their quailing breasts;
For yet is hope of life, and victory. —
Forft-slow no loneer, make we hence amain.

SCENE IV.
The same. Another part of the f.eld.
Excursions, Enter RICHARD and CLIFFORD.

Ricli. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone :
Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York,
And this for Rutland ; both bound to revenge,
Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.

Cii/' Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone:
This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York ;
And this the hand, that slew thy brother Rutland ;
And here's the heart that triumphs in their death.
Aad cheers these hands, that slew iby sire saiiX.
brother, '

THIRD PART OP Act 2.

To execute the like upon thyself;
And so, have at thee.

{.They fight. fVa-nmck enters; Clifordjltts.
Rick. Nay, W arwiclc, single out some ot nev chase ;
For I myself will hunt this vro\t to death.

SCENE V.
jinoiher part of the Jield.
Alarums. Rnier King HENRY.
K.Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's
war.

When dying clouds contend with growing light;

"What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails.

Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.

?Jow sways it this way, like a mighty sea,

Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind;

Now sways it that %vay, like the self-same sea,

Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind :

Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind;

,Now, one the better; then, another best;

3Both lugging to be victors, breast to breast.

Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered :

So is the equal poise of this fell war.

Here on this molehill will I sit me down.

To whom God will, there be tlie victory !

For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,

Ilave chid me from the battle ; swearing both.

They prosper best of all, when I am thence.

'Would I were dead ! if God's good will were sO:

For what is in this world, but grief and woe?

O God ! methinks, it were a happy life,

To be no better than a homely swain ;

To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point.

Thereby to see the minutes how they run :

How many make t}ie hour full complete.

How many hours bring about the day,

How many days will finish up the year.

How many years a mortal man may live.

When this is known, then to divide the times;

So many hours must I tend my flock;

So many hours must I take my rest;

Bo many hours must I c6ntemplate ;

So many hours must I sport myself;

So tnany days my ewes have beeu with yOung;

«c. $. King henry vr. 31

So many weelts ere the poor fools will yean •

So many years ere I bhaU sheer ihe fleece : *

Sii rainutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,

rass rt over to the end they were created,

oiild hriiijt white haira unto a quiet grave
Ah, what a life were this • how sweet ! how I'ovelyJ

^ives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
1 o Bhenherdu, looHng on their silly sheep,
lhan dotli a rich embroider'd canopy

To kings, that fear their subjects' ti-eachery?
O, yes, it doth; a thousand fold it dolh.

And, to conclude,— the shepherd's homely cunis-

His cold thni drniV out of his leather bottle.
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade.

All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

la far beyond a prince's dt'Jicates,

His viands sparklinji iu a golden cup.

His body couched in a envious bed.

When caro, mistrust, and treason wait on him.

Alarum. Enter n Son thnt has kUled his FathgTy
dragging in tke dead body.

Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits nolmdy.—
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight
Mar he possessed with some store of crowns : *
And I, that haply take them from him now.
Slay j-et ere night yield both my life and them
To some man else, as this dead man doth me —
JVho's this i~0 Godi it is my father's face,
V\ horn in this conflict I uuwares have kiU'd.
O hoavj- times, begetting such events !
From London by the king was f press'd forth :
My father, being the earl of Warwick's man,
Catne on the part of York, press'd by his master:
And I, who at his hands leceiv'd my life.
Have by my hands of life bereaved him.—
Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did !—
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee !—
Wy tears ahixW wipe away these bloody marks ;
And no more words, till they have flow'd their fili,

A. Hen. O piteous spectacle ! O bloody limes!
>Vhilst lions war, and battle for their dens.
Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. —
Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear;
And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war.
Be blind wiA tears, aud break o'ercharg'd wit

THIRD PART OF

Acts.

Enter a Father, who has killed his Son, with the body
in his arms.

Fath. Thou, that so stoutly hast resisted me,
Give me thy gold, if thou haat any gold ;
For I have bought it with an hundred blows. — ■
But let me see : — is this our foeman's face I
Ah, no, uo, no, it is mine only son !—
Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee.
Throw up thine eye; see, see, what showers arise.
Blown wuh the windy tempest of ray heart,
Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart !
O, pity, God, this miserable age ! —
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly.
Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget ! —
O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,.
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late !

K. Hen. Woe above woe ! grief more than coii>-
mon yiief ! —
O, that my death would stay these rutbful deeda !—
O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!
The red rose and the white are on his face,
The fatal colours of our striving houses ;
The one, his purple blood rif^ht well resembles ;
The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present :
"Wither one rose, and let the other flourish!
If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.

Son. How will ray mother,, for a father's death.
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied?

Fatk. How will my wife, for slaughter of my S0D>
Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied t

K.Hen. How will the country, for these wcsfi^
chances,

Misthinlc the king, and not he satisfied?

San. Was ever son, so ru*d a father's death?

Fatk. Was ever father, so bemoan'd his son?

K. Hen, Was ever king,, so grieved for subjects' )
woe ? ^
Much is your sorrow ; mine, ten times so much.

Son. 1*11 bear thoe hence, where I may weep my
fill. lExit, with the tod\f.

Fath. These arras of mine shall be thy winding-
sheet ;

My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre ;
for from my heart thine image ne'er shall go,
Hiy sighiug breast ahall be tliy t'lmeral bell ;

St. 6. KING HENRTVI. 39-

And so obsequious will thy father be.

Sad for the loss of thee,, having no more.

As Priam was for all his vali;«it sons.

I'll bear thee hence ; aud lei them fieht, that ■^ill.

For I have murdei'd, where 1 should not kill.

[Ka >'t, with the body.
K. Ihn. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with,
care.

Here sits n king> more woful than yon are.

Alarum: Excursions. Enter Queen

Prince of IVales, and EXETER.
Prince. Fly, father, fly ! for all your friends are
fled,

And Warwick rapes like a chafed hull:
Kw-Ay ! for death doth hold us in pursuit.

f).Mfir. Mount you, my lord, towards Berwick
poiit amain :

Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
Haring the fearful flying hare in sight*
With fiery eyes, sparklinj^ for very wrath.
And blooay steel grasp'd in their ireful hands.
Are at our backs; and therefore hence amMU.

kxe. Away ! forvengeauce comes along with themt
Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed ;
Or else come after, I'll away before.

KMen. NaVftake me with thee, good sweet Exeter;
Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
>\'hilhcr the queen intends. Forward ; away!

\_KxeurU^

SCENE VI,
The same.

A loud alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded.
Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dieSj
Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light.
O, Lancaster ! 1 fear thy overthrow.
More than my body's parting with my soul.
My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee;
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt.
Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York,
The common people swarm like summer flies :
And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun ?
And who shines now but Henrj''s enemies T
O Fhcebus ! hadst thou never given consent
That Phi^ton should check thy fiery steedij

THIRD PART OF Act 2.

Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth ;

And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do.

Or as thy father, and hia father, did.

Given no ground unto the house of Yorlf,

They never then had sprung like summer flies ;

1, and ten thrjusand in this luckless realm.

Had left no mourning widows for our death.

And thou this day hadst kept thy chair iu peace.

For what doth cherish weeds hut ^jeutle air ?

And what makes rohlters bold, but too much lenity?

Hootlesii are plaints, and cureless aie my wouoda;.

No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight:

Tha foe is merciless, and will not pity ; I

For, at thoir hands, 1 have deserv'd no pity.

The air hath got into my deadly wounds.

And much effuse of blood doth make me faint

Come, York, ami Richard, Warwick, and the rest ;

I stabb'd your father's bosoms, split my Iireast.

[Ife faints.

Alarum andretrent. j5n?*j- EBWART>. GEORGE,
RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and

Soldiers.

Edw. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune bids
us pause, - \

And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.-^ I
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ; —
That led calm Henry, though he were a king.
As doth a sail, filled with a fretting gust.
Command an argosy to stem the waves.
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? I

fVar. No, 'tis inipossible he should escape: '
For, though before his face I speak the words.
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave ;
And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.

[CHjford groans and dies.

JSdw. Whose soul is that, which takes her heary
leave ?

Jiich. A dsadly groan, like life and death de-
parting, I

Edw. See who it is : and, now the battle's ended.
If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd .

/iic/t. Revoke thatdoom of mercy, for 'tis Clift'ordf
"Who, not contented that he lopp'd the branch
In hewing Rutland, when his leaves put forth.
But set his murdering knife unto the root,
¥rom w'hence that tender spray did sweetly spring'.

Sc.e. KING HENRY VI. 35

I mean, our princely father, dulce of York.

fi'ar. From off the ijates of York fetch down th«
head,

' Your father's head, which Clifford placed there i
Instead whereof, let this supply the room ;
Measure for measure must he auswored.
Sdtc. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to ouy
house,

That nothing sung hut death to us and ours :
Now death shall stop his dismal threatenin); sound,.
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.

[Attendants bring the body forwards

fi'ar. \ think his understanding is bereft : —
Speak, Clifford,doiit thou know who speaks to thee?—
Park cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life.
And he unr sees, nor hears us what we say.

Rich. O, 'would he did ! and so, perhaps, he doth ;
'Tis but his policy to counterfeit.
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts,
Wliich in the time of death he gave our father.
. tttfo. If so thou thiuk'st, vex him with eager words*

Rick. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.

Rdtc. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.

fVur. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.

(tM. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.

Rirk. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.
: Edw. Thou pitied'sl Rutland, I will pity thee.

Oeo. Where s cstptnin Margaret, to fence you now?

fyar. They mock thee, Clifford ! swear as tho*
wast wont.

Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the world
goes hard.

When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath :—
1 know by that, he's dead ; And, by my soul,.
If this right hand would buy two hours' life.
That I in all despite might rail at him.
This hand should chop it oft'; and ivith the issuing
blood

Stifle the villam, whose unstaunched thirst
York and young Rutland could not satisfy.

fVaT. Ay, hut he's dead : Off with the traitor's
head,

And rear it in the place your father's stands. —
And now to London with b-iumphant march,
There to be crowned England's royal k-ing.
From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France,
And ask tli« lady Bona for thy <jueea :

36 THIRD PART Act S.

So shalt thou sineiv both these lands together;
And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread
The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again ;
■For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet look to have them buz, to offend thine ears.
First, I will see the coronation ;
And then to Britany I'll cross the sea,
To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. _

Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be)
For on thy shoulder do I build my seat ;
And never will I undertake the thing.
Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting,—
Richard, 1 will create thee duke of Gloster ;—
And George, of Clarence ; — Warwick, as ourself,
Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best.

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of
Gloster ;

For Gloster's dukedom Is too ominous.

fVar. Tut, that's a foolish observation ;
Richard, be duke of Gloster : Now to London,
To see these honours in possession. [ExtunU^

ACT III. SCENE I.
A chase in the North of England.
Snter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands.

1 Keep. Under this tliick-grown brake we'll

shroud ourselves ;
For through this laund anon the deer will come;
And in this covert will we make our stand.
Culling the principal of all the deer.

2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may

shoot.

1 K^eep. That cannot be ; the noise of thy cross-bow
Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost.
Here stand we both, and aim we at the best :
And, for the time shall not seem tedious,

I'll tell tliee what befell me on a day

In this self-place, where now we mean to stand.

2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be

past.

Enter King HENRY, disguised, with a prayer-hook.
K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'a, even of puifl
love.

To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.
THo, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thiue;

S*. 1. KING HENRY VI. ^7

Thy place is fiU'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
^Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed:
No Iwiidini? knee wiU call thee Caebar now,
No humble suitors press to speak for right.
No, not a man comos for redress of thee ;
For how c;m 1 help them, and not myself?

1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer, whose skin's a keeper's

fee ;

This is the quondam king ; let's seize upon him.

A', h'en. Let me embrace these sour advei-sities ;
For wise men say, it is the wisest course.

2 A'ff<p. Why linger we ! let us lay hands npon

him.

1 h'efp. Forbear a while ; we'll hear a little more.
' A', //en. My queen, and son, are gone to Fi-auce

for aid ;

And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick

Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister

To wife for Edward: If this news be true,

Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost;

For Warwick is a subtle orator.

And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words.

By this account, then, Margaret may win him;

For she's a woman to be pitied much :

Her sighs will make ii battery in his breast;

Her tears will piei-ce into a marble heart;

The lijter will be mild, while she doth mourn ;

And Nero will be tainted with remorse,

To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears.

Ay, but slie's come to Iw^ ; Warwick, to give:

She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry ;

He, on his rii;ht, asking a wife for Edward.

She weeps, and says — her Henry is depos'd:

He smiles, and says — his Edward is install'd ;

That she, poor wietch, for grief can speak no more :

Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong,

Inferreth arguments of mighty strength ;

And, in conclusion, wins the king from her.

With promise of his sister, and what else.

To strengthen and support king Edward's place.

O Mai^aret, thus 'twill be ; and thou, poor soul.

Art then foi-saken, as thou went'st forlorn.

2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings

and queens?

K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was
born to :

A man at least; for less I should not be ;

33 THIRD PART OF Act 3,

And men may talk of kings, and why not I?

HKecp. Ay, but thou talk'at as if thou wen a kinff.

K. Hen . Why, so I tim,i[i mind; and that's enough!

2KKep. But, it' thou he a king, where U thycrowu ?

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head-
Not deck'd witli diamonds, and Indian stones, *
Nor to be seen ; my crown is callM, content ;
A crmvn it is, that seldom kings enjoy.

2 A'ecp. Well,if you be a king,crown'd with content.
Your crown content, and you, must be contented
To go along with us : for, as we think.
You are the king, king Edward hath depos'd ;
And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,
Will apprehend you as his enemy.

KMen.Bixt6.\t\ you never swear,and break an oath!

2 Kefp. No, never such an oath, nor will not now.

K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was kio*
of England? ^

2 Keep. Here in this country, where, we now
remain .

K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old;
My father and ray grandfather, were kings ;
And you were sworn true subjects unto me :
And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths?

1 Keep. No ;
For we were subjects, but while you were king.

K-.Hen. Why, am I dead ? do I notbreathe aman ?
Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear.
Look, as I blow this feather from my face.
And as the air blows it to me again ,
Obeying with my wind, when I do blow.
And yielding to another, when it blows.
Commanded always by the greater gust;
Such is the lightness of you^eoramon men.
But do not break your oaths ; for, of that sin
My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.
Go where you will, the king shall be commanded;
And be you kings ; command, and 1*11 obey.

I Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king
Edward.

K. Hen. So would vou be as^aiu to Henry,
If he were seated as king Edward is.

1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in
the king's,
To go with us unto the officers.
K. Hen. In God's name, lead j your king's nani»
be obey'd;

S(r. 2.

KING HENKT TI.

39

And what God wUt> that let your kini; perform ;
And what he will, I humbly yield uiilo. [Sa eunt.

SCENE II.

Condon. A room in the P(ilac€,

Enter King KDWARD, GLOS TER, CLA-
RENCE, and Lady GREY.

K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Snint Albans' field
This lady's husband, sir John Groy, was alain.
His buids then seis'd on by the conqueror :
Her suit is now, to repossess those land$ ;
Which we in justice cannot well deny,
Because in quanel of the house of York
'^"11,6 worthy geutleman did lose his life.

G!o. Your highness shall do well to grant her suit ;
It were dia^honour lo deny it her.

K.Edw. It wereuo letis i but yet I'll make a pnuse.

Gh. Yea ! is it so ? [Aside to darence.

I see, the lady hath a thing to grant.
Before the king will grant her humble suit.
, Ciur. He Vuows the game; How true he keftps
the wind ? [Asiae.

Gh. Silence ! \yisi4e.

K. Edw, Widow, we will consider of your suit ;
And come some other time, to know our mind.

L.Grey. Right a;i'acious lord, Icamiot brook delay :
May it please your highness to resolve ma now ;
And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me,

Glo. f^*irfe.l Ay, widow I then I'll warrant you.
all your lands.
An if what pleases him shall pleasure you.
tight closer, or, good faith, you'll eaten a blow.

Clar. I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.

\_Aside.

Glo. God forbid that! for he'll take vantages.

[Aside

A*. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow ?
tell me.

Clnr.X think.he means tobeg a child of her. [Aside.
Glo. Nay» whip me then ; he'll rather give her

two. [Aside*
L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord.
Glo. You shall have four, if you'll be rul'd by

him. [A^de.
Edu>. 'Twere pity they should lose their fathei 's

laud.

40

THIRD PART OP Act 3.

L. Grey, Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then,
JC.Edti). Lordsj give us leave ; I'll try this widow's
wit.

Glo. Ay, good leave have you ; for you will have
leave.

Till youth take leave, and leave you to tlie crutch.
[Gloster nnd Clarence retire to ike othr side.
K.Edw. Now tell me, madam, do you love your
children ?

X. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
K. Kdw. And would you not domuch to do tliem
good?

L. Grey. To do them good, I would sustain some
harm.

K. Ediv. Then get your husband's lands, to do
them ffood.

L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty.
K. Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to
be got.

Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness'
service.

K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I give
them ?

L.Grey, What you command, that rests in me to do.
K. Edxi}. But you will taVe exceptions to my boon.
L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.
A'. Edu). Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.
L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace
commands.

- Glo. He plies her hard ; and much rain weara
the marble. iAside.
Clar. As red as fire ! nay, then her wax must melr.

[Aside.

L. Grey. Why stops my lord t shall I not hear
my task 7

K. Edw. An easy task ; 'tis but to love a kinj.
Z.. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I am a
subject.

K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely
give thee.

L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand
thanks.

Glo. The match is made; she seals it with acurt'sy.
K. Edio. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean,
i. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense.
What love; thiok'st thou, I sue so much to get 7

Sc. 2.

KING HENRY VI.

41

L. Grey. My love till death, nay humble thanks,
my prayers ;
That love, which virtue beps, and virtue grants.
A'. Edw. No, by my troth, I do not mean svich love.
L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought
you did.

A'. E<k>. But now you pai lly may perceive my
mind.

L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I perceive
Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

A'. Edw. To tell thee plain, 1 aim to lie wiih thee.
L.Edw. To tell you plain, I had lather lie ia
prison.

K.Edw. Wliy, then thou shalt not have thy

husband's lands.
L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my

dower ;

For by that loss I will not purchase them.
A'. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children
mightily.

L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them
aud me.

But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadness of my suit ;
please you dismiss me, either with ay, or no.

A'. Eau?. Ay J if thou wilt say ay, to my request :
No ; if thou dobt say no, to my demand.

X. Grev. Tlien, no, my lord. Mysuitisatan end.

Glo. 'the widow likes him not, she knits her
brows. [j4sida.

eta. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.

K.Edw. {^Aside.'] Her looks do argue her replete
with modesty ;
Her words do show her wit incomparable;
AH her perfections challenge sovereignty :
One way, or other, she is for a kuig ;
And she shall be my love, or else my queen. —
Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen ?
L. Grey. Tls better said than done, my graciou*
lord:

I am a subject fit to jest withal,
But far unlit to be a sovereign.

A'. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear t«.
thee,

I speak no more than what my soul intends;,
Aud that is, to *iijoy thee for my love.

42

THIRD PART OF Act 3.

Z. Grey. And that is more than I will yield unto :
I know, I am too mean to lie your queen;
And yet too good to be your concubine.

K. Edw. You cavil, widow ; I did mean, my queen.
X. Gret/. 'Twill grieve your grace, my sons should

fall you — father.
K. EdiD. No more, than when my daughters call
thee mother.
Thou art a widow, and thou hast Borne children;
And, by God's mother, I, being but. a bachelor.
Have other some : why, tis a happy thing
To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.
Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his
shrift. \_Aside,
Clar. When he was made a shiiver, 'twas for
shift. \_Aside.
K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two
have had.

Gh. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad.
K, Edw. You'd think it strange, if I should marry
her.

Clar. To whom, my loi'd ?

K. Edio. Why, Clarence, to myself.

Olo That would be ten days' wonder, at the leasts
Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts.
Glo. By so much is the wonder in extremes.
K, Edw. Well, jest on, brothers : I can tell you
both,

■Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.
Enter a Nobleman.
Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken.
And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.
K.Edw. See, that he be convey'd unto the
Tower : —

And go we, brothers, to the man, that took him.

To question of his apprehension. —

Widow, go you along ; — Lords, use her honourable.

\^Ea.'eunt King Edward, Lady Grey, Cla-
rence, and Lord.
Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably.
*Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all,
That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,
To cross me from the golden time I look for!
And yet, between my soul's desire, acd me.
tXIie lu<tful Edward's title buried,)

Sc. 2. KING HENRY VI.

-48

Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward,

And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies.

To take their rooms, ere I can place myself:

A cold nremeditAtion for my purpose !

Why, tneii I do but dream on sovereignty ;

Like one, that stands upon a promontory.

And spies a far-off shore, %vhere he would tread.

Wishing his foot were equal wiih his eye ;

And chides the sea, that sunders him fi-om thence.

Saying—he'll lade it dry to have his way :

So do I wish the Cromi, being so far off;

And so I chide the means, that keep me from it j

And 80 I say — I'll cut the causes on.

Flattering me with impossibilities. —

My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much.

Unless my hand and strength could equal them.

AVell, say there is no kingdom then for Richard;

What other pleasure can the world afford?

I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap,

And deck my body in gay ornaments.

And witch sweet ladies with my words and looki,

O miserable thought ! and more unlikely.

Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns !

"Why, love foreswore me in my mother's womb :

And, for I should not deal in her soft laws.

She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe

To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ;

To make an envious mountain on my back,

Where sits deformity to mock my bodyj

To shape my legs of an unequal size ;

To disproportion me in every part,

I>ike to a chaos, ov an unliek'a bear-whelp.

That carries no impression like the dam.

And am I then a man to be belov'd ?

O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought!

Then, since this earth affords no joy to me.

But to command, to check, to o'erbear such

As are of better person than myself,

I'll make my heaven — to dream upon the crown;

And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell.

Until my misshap'd trunk, that bears this head.

Be round impaled with a glorious crown.

And yet I know not how to get the crown,

For many lives stand between me and home:

And I, — like one lost in a thorny wood.

That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thornS;

Seeking a way, aud straying from tiie w*y ;

44

THIRD PART OF Act 3.

Not knowing how to find the open air.

But toiling desperately to find it out, — ■

Torment myself to catch the English crown:

And from that torment I will free myself,

Or hew my way out wUh a bloody axe.

Why, I can smile ; and murder, while I smile ;

And cry, content, to that, which yrieves my heart;

And wet my cheelis with artificial tears.

And frame my face to all occasions.

I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;

I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;

I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,

Deceive more slily than Ulysses could.

And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:

I can add colours to the cameleon ;

Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages.

And set the nuud'rous Machiavel to school.

Can I do this, and cannot i;et a crown T

Tut ! were it further off, I'll pluck it down. {_Ej'it.

SCENE III.
France. A room in ihe Palace.
Flourhk. Enter LEWIS the French Kini,', nnd
Lady BONA, attended^ the King takes his Stnte.
Then enter Otaen MARGARET, Prince ED-
WARD her son, and the Earl o/OXFORD.
K. Lew, Fair queen of England, worthy Margaret,
\_/iising.

Sit down with us ; it ill befits thy state
And birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis
doth sit.

Q. Mar. No, mighty king of France ; now Mar-
garet

Must strike her sail, and learn a while to serve,
Where kings command. I was, I must confess,
Great Albion's queen in former golden days :
But now mischance hath ti'od my title down.
And with dishonour laid me on the ground ;
Where I nust take like seat unto my fortune.
And to my hun.ble seat conform myself.

K.Lew. Why, say, fair queen, whence 5prin(f»

this deep despair?
J^. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine ey<»

with tears,

And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd'in cares.
K. Lew. \Vliate'«r it be, be thou still like thyaelf.

Sc. 3.

KING HENRY VI.

45

Aud sit thee by our side : yield not thy neck

[Setits her b\j him.
To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind
Still ride in triumph over all miHchance.
Be plain, queen Margaret, and tell thy tpuef ;
It snail be eas'd, if i'rance can yield relief.

Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my droop-
ing thoughts.
And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.
Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis,—
That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
Is, of a king, become a bauish'd man.
And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn [
While proud ambitious Edward, duke of York*
Usurps the regal title, and the seat
Of England's true-anointed lawful king.
This is ihe cause, that I, poor Margaret,—
"With this my son, prince Edward, Henry's heir,—
Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid ;
And, if ihou fail us, all our liope is done :
Scotland hath will lo help, but cannot help;
Our people and our peers are both misled.
Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight.
And, as thou see'st, ourselves in heavy plight.
A'. Lew. Renowned queen, with patience calm
the storm.

While we bethink a means to break it off.

jy. Afar. The more we stay, the stronger grows
our foe.

X. Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll succour
thee.

Q. Afar. O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow:
Aim see, where comes the breeder of ray sorrow.

Enter WARWICK, attended.
K. Ltu>. What's he, approacheth boldly to our
presence I

Q. Mar. Our earl of WanvicV, Edward's greatest
friend.

K. Lew, Welcome, brave Warwick ! What brings
thee to France ?

{^Descending from kis state. Queen Mar-

faret rises.
^ y, now begins a second storm to risej

For this is he, that moves both wind and tide.

fVar. From worthy Edward, king of Albion,
My lord aad sovereign, and thy vowed friend.

46 THIRD PART OP Act ^

I come,— in kindness, and unfeigned love,—
First, to do greetings to thy roval person;
And, then, to crave a league of amity ;
And, lastly, to confirm that amity
"With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
That virtuous lady Bona, thy fair sister.
To England's king in la\vful marriai^e.

Q. Mar, It' that go forward, Henry's hope is done.

ff^ar. And, gracious madam, [7b BonaA in our
king's behalf
I am commanded, with your leave and favour.
Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue
To tell the passion of my sov'reign's heart ;
Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears,
Hath plac'd thy beauty's image, and thy virtue.

Q. Mar. King Lewis,— and~lady Bona,— hear me
speak.

Before you answer Warwick. His demand
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love.
But from deceit, bred by necessity ;
For how can tyrants safely govern home.
Unless abroad they purchase great alliance ?
To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice,—
That Henry Uveth still : but were he dead.
Yet here prince Edward stands, king Henry's son.
Look therefore, Lewis, that by this league and mar-
riage

Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour :
For though usurpers sw:\y the rule a while.
Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseih wrongs.
ffar. Injurious Margaret ! °
Prince. And why not queen I

fVnr. Because thy father Henry did usurp;
And thou no more art prince, than she is queon.

Oj/. Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt,
Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain ;
And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the fourth.
Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest;
And, after that wise prince, Henry the fifth.
Who by his prowess conquered all France :
From these our Henry lineally descends.

War, Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth dis-
course,

You told not, how Henry the sixth hath lost
All that, -which Henry the fifth had (,'otten ?
Methinks, these peers of France should smile at tiat.
But for the lest,— Yau tell a pedigree

Sc. S.

KING HENRY VI.

47

Of threescore and two years ; a silly time
To make prescription for a kingdom's worth.

Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against
thy liege,

"Whom liiou obey'dst thirty and %\x years.
And not hewray thv treason with a blush X

H'ar. Can OxfoTo, that did ever fence the rigM,
Now Imckler falsehood witli a pedigree ?
For shame, leave Henry, and call Edward king.

Otf. Call him my kiiip, liy whose injurious doom
My elder brother, the lol-d Aubrey VeVe,
Was done to death ; and more than so, my father.
Even in the duwiifall of his mellow'd years,
When nature brought him to the door of death ?
Ko, Warwick, no; while life upliolds this arm.
This arm Upholds the house of Lancaster.

fi'uY. And I the house of York.

K. Lew. Queen Margaret, prince Kdward, and
Oxford,

Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside.
While I use furthar conference with Warwiclc.
Q. Mar- Heavens grant, that Warwick's words
bewitch him not !

^Retiring with the Prince and 0.r/ord.
K. Lew. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy
conscience.

Is Kdward your true king? for 1 were loath
To link with him, that were not lawful chosen.

fi^ar. Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour.

K. Lew. But is he i^racious in the people's eye ?

/f'rtr. The more, that Henry was unfortunate.

K. Lew. Then further, — all oissembUng set aside.
Tell me for truth the measure of his loVe
Unto our sister Bona.

//ViT. Such it seems,

As may beseem a monarch like himself.
Myself have often heard him say, and swear,—
That this his love was an eternal plant ;
Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground.
The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun;
Exempt from envy, but not from disdain.
Unless the lady ftona quit his pain.

A'. Leu. Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve.

Bona. Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine
Yet 1 confess, [7o ffar."] that often ere this day.
When I have heard your king's desert recounted.
Mine ear hath tempted J udg^ient to desire.

THIRD PART OF Act 3.

K. LetB. Then, Warwick, thus,— Our sister shall
be Edward's j
And now forthwith shall articles be drawn
Touchinf! the jointure, that your king must make.
Which with her dowry shall be couiiterpois'd : —
Draw near, queen Margaret ; and be a witness.
That Bona shall be wife to the English kint;.

Prince. To Edward, but not to the English kin^.

Q. Mar. Deceitful Warwick! it was thy device
By this alliance to make void my suit ;
Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry's friend.

K. Lew. And still is friend to him and Margaret;
But if your title to the crown be weak, —
As may appear by Edward's good success, —
Then 'tis nut reason, that I be released
From giving aid, which late I promised.
Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand,
That your estate requires, and mine can yield.

/f nr. Heni-y nov.- lives in Scotland, at his ease;
"Where having nothing, nothing he can lose.
And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, —
You have a father able to maintain you;
And better 'twere, you troubled him than France.

Q, Alar. Peace, impudent and shameless War-
wick, peace :
Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings!
I will not hence, till with my talk and tears.
Both full of truth, I make king Lewis behold
Thy sly conveyance, and thy lord's false love;
For both of you are birds of self-same feather.

[-^ horn sounded within.
K. Lea. Warwick, this is soma post to ua, or
thee.

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord ambassador, these letters are for
you ;

Sent from your brother, marquis Montague.

These from our king unto your majesty. —

And, madam, these for you ; from whom I know not.

[7i> Margaret. Thtt/ alt read their letters.
Oxf. X like it well, that our fair queen and mis-
tress

Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.
Prince. Nay, mark, how Lewis stamps as ho
were nettled :
I hope^ all's for the best.

I Sc. 3. KINO HENRY VI. 49

! K. Lew. AVanvicV, what are thy news ? and

I yours, fair queen?
Q, Mar. Mine, such as fill my heart with unhop'd
i joys.

■ War. Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent.
K.LeiD. What! has your king married the lady
Grey?

And now, to sooth your forgery and his,
Sends me a paper to persuade me patience?
Is this the alliance, that he seeks with Prance?
Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?

Q. Mnr. I told your majesty as much before :
. Thisproveth Edward's love, aiidWanvicVshonesty.

fVar. King Lewis, I here protest, — in sight of
I heaven,

And by the hope I have of hearenly bliss,—

That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's;

Ko more my Itinn;, for he dishonours me ;

But most himself, if he could see his shame.—

Did 1 forget, that by the house of York

My father came untimely to his death ?

Did I let pass the abuse, done to my niece?

Did I impale him with the regal crown t

Did I put Henry from his native right;

And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame ?

Shame on himself! for my desert is honour.

And, to repair my honour lost for him,

1 here renounce him, and retuni to Henry:

My noble queeu, let former grudges pass.

And henceforth 1 am thy true servitor;

I will revenge his wrong to lady Bona,

And replant Henry in his former state.

Q. Mar. Warwick, these words have tum'd my
hate to love ;
And 1 forgive and quite forget old faults.
And joy, that thou becom'si king Henry's friend.

WVir. So much hisfriend, ay, his unfeigned friend,
T)iat, if king Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us
"With some few bands of chosen soldiers,
I'll undertake to land them on our coast.
And foj-ce the tyrant from his seat by war.
'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him:
And as for Clarence, — as my letters tell me.
He's very likely now to fall from him ;
For matching more for wanton lust than honour.
Or than for strength and safety of our countiy.
I ^ Bona. Dear brother, how shiUlBoaa be reveng'dji

««l THI^ID PART OF Act 4.

But by thy help to this distressed queen !

Q. Jiftr. Renowned Prince, how shall poor Henry
live ;

Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?

Bona. My quarrel.andthisEn^liali queen 's are one.

ff'tr. And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours.

A'. Lew. And mine, with her's, and thine, and
Margaret's.
Therefore, at lasi, I firmly am resolv'd.
You shall have aid.

Q. Mar. Let me Epre humble thanks for all at once.

A". Lew. Then, England's mesaenger," return iu
post ;

And tell false Edward, thy supposed king,—
That Lewis of France is sending over maskers.
To revel it with him and his new bride :
Thou seest what's past, tie fear thy king withal.
Bona. Tell him. In hope he'll prove a widower
shortly,

I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.

Q. Mar. Tell him. My mourning weeds are laid
aside,

And t am ready to put armour on.

ff^ar. Tell him from me. That he hath doue me
wrong ;

And therefore I'll uncrown him, ere't be long.
There's thy reward; be gone. {K.vit Mess.

K. Lew. But, Warwick, thou>

And Oxford, with five thousand men.
Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle:
And, as occasion serves, this uuble queen
And prince shall foUmv with a fresh supply.
Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt; —
M'*hat pledge have we of thy firm loyalty X

li'ar. This iihall assure my constant loyalty :■—
That if our queen and this young prince agree,
1*11 join mine eldest daughter, and my joy.
To him forthwith iu holy wedlock bands.

Q. Mar. Yes, I agree, and thauk you for your
motion : —
Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous.
Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick;
Aiid, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,
That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine.

Prime. Yes, I accept hev, for she well deserves it ;
Aad here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand.

\_He gives his hand iu fVarwick^

Sc. I. KING HENRY VI. 51

K' tew- Why stay we now ! These soldiers shall
be UvWA,

And thou, lord Bourbon, our high admiral.
Shall waft them over with our royal fleet. —
I long, till Edward fall by war's mischance.
For mocking marriage with a dame of France.

[Katunt all hut fi'aruddt.
JVar. I came from Edward as ambussador.
But I return his swum and mortal foe :
Mailer of marriage was the charge he gave me.
But dreadful war shall answer hi» demand.
Hud lie nona else to make a stale but me!
Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow.
I was the chief, that rais'd him to the crown.
And I'll be chief lo bring him down again :
Not that I pity Henry's misery.
But seek revenge on bdward's mockory. [SeU.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

London. /I room in the Palace.,
Enter GLOSTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET,
MOiMTAGUE, tmd Others.
Glo . Now tell me,brother Clarence, what ihiuk you
Of this new marriage with the lady Grey?
Hath not our brother made a worthy choice ?

Clar. Alas, you know, 'tis farfrom hence to France;
How could he stRy, till Warwick made return ?
Som. My lords, forbear this talk; here comes tha
k-ing.

Flourish. Enter A'ine EDWARD, attended; Lady

GREY,^wiea«n; Pembroke, STAFFORD,

HASTINGS, and Others.
Glo. And his w«U-chosen bride.
Clitr. I mind to tell him plainly what I think.
K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how like yoa.
our choice.

That you stand pensive, as half maloontant?

Clar. As well as Lewis of France, or the earl o£
Warwick I

Which are so weak of courage, and in judgment.
That they'll take no otVencB at our abuse.

K. Edta. Suppose, they take offence without a cause.
They are but Lewis and Warwick ; I am Edward^
Your kuig aud Warwick's, and must have my will.

52 TtllRD t»ARt 6P Act 4.

Glo. And you shall have your will, because our
king:

Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.

K. Kdw. Yea, brother Richard, are you offended

too?
Glo. Not I:

No ; God forbid, that I should wish them sever'd.
Whom God hath join'd together ; ay,and 'twere pity.
To suuder them, that yoke so well together.

A'.^rfm. Setting your scorns, and your mislike,aside.
Tell me some reason, why the lady Grey
Should notbecome my wife, and England's queen
And you, too, Somerset, and Montague,
Speak freely what you think.

Clar. 'ITien this is my opinion, — that king Lewis
Becomes your enemy, for mocking him
About the man-iage of the lady Bona.

Glo. And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge,
1b now dishonoured by this new marriage.

A'. Edw. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be
appeased,
By such invention as I can devise ?

Ahnt. Yet to have joined with France in such
alliance.

Would more have strengthened this our common-
wealth

'Gainslforeign storms,than any home-bred marriage.

Hast. Why, knows not Montague, that of itself
England is safe, if true within itself?

Alont. Yes \ but the safer, when 'tis back'd with
France.

Hast. 'Tis belter using France, than trusting
France :

Let us be b.icl('d with God, and with the seas.
Which he hath given for fence impregnable.
And with their helps only defend ourselves ;
In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.

Clar. For this one speech, lord Hastings well
deserves

To have the heir of the lord Hungerford. '

K. Edw. Ay, what of that ? it was my will and
grant ;

And, for this once, my'will shall stand for law.
Olo. And yet, methinks, your grace hath not
done well.

To give the heir and daughter of lord Scalta
Unto the brether of youi loving bride j

icA. KING flENftY tl. 53

She better would have fitted me, or Clarence :
But in your bride you bury brotherhood.

Ciar. Or else you' would not have beslow'd theheir
Of the lord Bonville on your new wife's son.
And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.

A'. E(iw. Alas, poor Clarence ! is it for a wifcy
That thou art malcontent! I will provide thee.

Ci(tr. In choosing for yourself, you show'd your
judgment ;

Which being shallow, you shall give me leave
To play the broker in mine own behalf;
And, to that end, I shortly mind to leave you.

A*. Edw. Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be king".
And not be tied unto his brother's will.

f). Eliz. My lords, before it pleas'd his majesty
To raise my state to title of a queen,
Do me but right, and you must all confess
That I was nnt ignoble of descent,
And meaner than myself have had like fortune.
But as this title honours me and mine,
So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing.
Do cloud my ioys with danger and with sorrow.

K. Edw. My love, forbear to fawn upon their
frowns :

AVhat danger, or what sorrow can befal thee.
So long as Edward is thy constant friend.
And their true sovereign, whom they must obey?
Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too.
Unless they seek fot hatred at my hands :
MHiich if they do, yet will I keep thee safe,
i And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath.
6lo. I hear, yei say not much, but think the more.

inside.

Kntera Messenger.

K.SdtO. Now, messenger, whut letters, or what
news.
From France !

A/ess. My sovereign liege.no letters; and few words.
But such as I, without your special pardon.
Dare not relate.

A'. Edw. Goto, we pardon thee: therefore, in brief.
Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them.
What answer makes king Lewis unto our letters?

Mess At my depart, these were his very words;
Go iell false Edward, thy supposed king, —
That Lewis of France is sending over maskaSj
To revel it with Aim and his new bride.

54

THIRD PART OF Act J.

K. Edw. I3 Lewis so brave ? belike he thinks me
Henry.

But what said lady Bona to my marriage ?
Me&s. These were her words, uttar'd with mild
disdain ;

7ell kirn, in hope h«'U prove a widower shortly,
ni wear fie wtUoia garland /or hia suAe

A*. Kdw. I blame not her, she Could say little less;
She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen ?
For I have heard, that she was there in place.

Mess. 7'ell fiim, quoth she, jny ynouruin^ weeds
are done,

^nd I nm ready to put armour on.

A'. Edw. Belike, she minds to play the Amazon.
Put what said Warwick to these injuries t

Mess. He, more incans'd against your majesty
Than all the rest, dlseharg'd me with these words ;
Tell him from me, that he huth done me wrong,
.t4nd (here/ore I'll uncroien him, ere't he long.

K.Edvo. Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so
proud words ?
Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd !
They shall have wars, and pay for their presumption.
But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?

A/ess. Ay, gracious sovereign; they are ao linked
in friendship,
That young prince Edward marries Warwick's
daughter.

Clar. Bolilte, the elder; Clarence will have the
younger.

Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast.
For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter;
That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriaga
I may not prove inferior to yourself. —
You, that love- me and Warwick, follow ma.

\E2 it Clarence, and Somerset follows,
Glo. Not I :
My thoughts aim at a further matter; I
Stay not for the love of Edward, hut the crown.

\_Aside.

K. Edw. Clarence aud Somerset both gone to
Warwick !

Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen ;
And haste is needful in this desperate case. —
Pembroke, and Stafford, you in our behalf
■Go levy men, and make prepare for war ;
They are already, or quickly wiU be landed

Sc. 2. K-ING HENRY TX. 55

MvBelf in person will straight follow you.

[E.reunl Pembroke and Staj^rd.
But, ere I go, Hasting?, — and Montague, —
ResoU-e my doubt. "Vou twain, of all the rest.
Are near to Warwick, by blood, and by alliance;
Tell me, if you love Warwick more than me I
If it be so, then both depart to him ;
I rather wish you foes, than hollow friends ;
But if you mind to hold your true obedience.
Give me assurance with some friendly vow.
That I may never have you in suspect.

Mont. So God help MontaRue, as he proves trae!

Jjnft. And Hastings, a^ he favoursEdwavd's cause!

K.Edw. Now, brother Richard, will you stand
by us ?

Glo. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you.

K- Edui. Why so; then am I sure of victory.
Now therefore let us hence ; and lose no hour.
Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power.

SCENE II.
^ plain in JVarwickshire.

Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with Frenok

and other Forces,
JVar. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well;
The common people by numbers swarm to us.

Enter CLARENCE and SOMERSET.
But, see, whtjre Somerset and Clarence come; —
Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends?
Clar. Fear not that, my lord.
fVar. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto War-
wick ;

And welcome, Somerset : — I hold it cowardicfl.

To rest mistrustful, where a noble heart

Hath pawn'd an open hand in si^i of love ;

Else might I think, that Clarence, Edward's brother.

Were but a feigned friend to our proceeditigs ;

But welcome, Clarence; my daughtershall be ihiuft.

And now what tests, but, in night's coverture.

Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd.

His soldiers lurking in the towns about.

And but attended by a simple guard,

We may surprize and take him at our pleasure?

Our scouts have found the adventure very Qasy ;

That as Ulysses, aiid stout Digmede,

THIRD PART OP Act 4.

With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus* tents.
And brought fvom thence the Thracian fatal steeds;
So we, well cover'd with the night's hUek mantle.
At unawares may beat down Edward's guard.
And seize himself; I say not— slaughtev him.
For I intend but only to surprize him.—
You, that will follow me to this attempt.
Applaud the name of Henry, with your leader.

v\ hy, then, let's on our way in silent sort :

For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George!

SCENE III.

EdwartVs camp, near H'artDtck.
Bnter certitin /i'aichmen to guard the king's tent.
1 fVatck. Come on, my masters, each man taka
his stand ;

The king, by this, is set him down to sleep.
IJf'atch. What, will he not to-bed?

1 H'atch. Why, no : for he hath made a solema

vow

Never to lie and take his natural rest,

Till Warwick, or himself, be quite suppressM.

2 IVatvh, To-morrow then, belike, shall be the

day,

If Warwick be so near as men report. •

3 fVatch. But say, I pvay, what nobleman is that.
That with the king here resleth in his tentf

1 iViUch. 'Tis the lord Hastings, the king's

chiefest friend.
3 JVatch. O, is it so? But why commands the
king,

That his chief followers lodge in towns about liim,
While he himself keepeth in the cold field ?

2 ff'nlch. *Tis the more honour, because more

dangerouij.

3 Watch. Ay; but give me worship and quietness,
I like it better than a dangerous honour.

If Warwick knew in what estate he stands,
■Tis to be doubted, he would waVen him.

1 ff'atch. Unless our halberds did shut up his

passage .

2 Ff'atch. Ay ; wherefore else guard we hla rOT^

tent, ■*
But to defead his person from mght-foea ?

Sc. 3.

KING HENRY VI.

57

Snter WARWICK, CLARENCE, OXFORD,
SOMERSET, and Forces.
fVar. This is his tent ; and see, where stand his
guard .

Courage, ray masters : honour now, or never !
But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.

1 fVatch. Who goes there ?

2 Watch. Staj*, or thou diest.

[fVarwick, and the rest, cry nit — Warwick !
H'nrwick ! and set upon the zuard; who
flyy crying— /Irm! ^rm! H^rvjick, and
the rest, fvthwing tkem.

The drum beating, and trumpets sounding, re-enter
WARWICK, and the rest, bringing the king
9ut in a gown, sitting in a chair: GLOiSTER
and HASTINGS jfy.

Som. What are they, that fly there f

/f^r. Richard, and Uastiugs : let them go, here's
the duke.

K. Edw. The duke ! why, Warwick, when we
parted last.
Thou callMst me king ?

War. ^ Ay, but the case is alter'd, :

When you disgrac'd me in my embassade.
Then I degraded you from being king.
And come now to create you duke of York.
Alas ! how should you govern any kingdom.
That know not how to use ambassadors;
Nor how to be contented with one wife ;
Nor how to use your brothers brotherly j
Nor how to study for the peojjle's welfare;
Nor how to shrowd yourself trom enemies T

A'. Edw. Yea, brother of Clarence.art thou here tool
Nay, then I see, that Edward needs must down.-*
Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance.
Of thee thyself, and all thy complices,
Edward will always bear himself as king:
Though fortune's malice overthrow my state.
My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.

/For. Then, for his mind, be Edward England's
king ; [7'nkes off his crown.

But Henry now shall wear the English crown.
And be true king indeed; thou but the shadow.—*
My lord of Somerset, at my request,
See that fQilhwith duke Edward be convey'd

63

THIRD PART OV Act 4.

Unto my brother, archbishop of Yovlc.
When 1 have fouijht with Pembroke nnd his fellows,
I'll follow you, and tell what answer
Lewis, and the ladj' Bona, send lo him : —
Now, for a while, farewell, good duke of York.
K. Edw. What fates impose, that men must
needs abide ;
It boots not to resist both wind and tide.

[Eait King Edward, led out ; Somerset with
him.

Oaf. What now remains, my lords, for us to do.
But march to London with our soldiers.

ffar. Ay, that's the firstthing, that we have to do;
To free kiiig Henry from imprisonment.
And see him seated in the regal throne. {^Ei'eunt.

SCENE IV.
London. A rmm in the Palace.
Enter Queen ELIZABETH und RIVERS.
Riv. Madam, %vhat makes you iu this Sudden

change ?

Q. Eliz. Why, brother Kivers,are you j^et to learn.
What late misfortune is befall'n king t.dward ?
/tiv. What, loss of some pitch'd battle against
Warwick ?

, EHk. No, but the loss of his own royal person.
If. Then is my sovereign slain f
Q. Eliz. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner;
Either hetray'd by falsehood of his guard,
Or by his foe surpris'd at unawares :
And, as I further have to understand.
Is new committed to the bishop of York,
Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our foe.

^10. These news, I must confess, are full of grief;
Yet, gracious madam, bear it as vou may;
"Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day.
Q.Eliz. Till then, fair hope must hinder life's
decay.

And I the rather wean me from despair,
For love of Edward's otfsprinK in my womb :
This is it, that makes me bridle passion,
And bear with mildness my misfoitune's cross ;
Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear,
And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs.
Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown
King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English crown.

Sc. 5. KING HENRY TI.

59

Jifv. But, madam, where is Warwick then become?
Q. Eliz. I am informeti, that he comes towards
London,

To set the crown once more on Henry's head :
Guess thou the rest ; king Edward's friends must
down.

But, to prevent the tyrant's violence,

(For trust not him, that hath once broken faith^)

I'll hence forthwiih unto the sanctuary.

To save at least the heir of Edward's right ;

There shall I rest secure from force, and fraud.

Come therefore, let us fly, while we may fly; '

If Warwick take us, we are sure to die. \_Exevnt,

SCENE V.
v4 park near Middlekam Castle in Yorkshire.
Enter GLOSTER, H ASTINGS, Sir WILLIAM
STANLEY, fiflrf Others.
Glo. Now, my lord Hastings, and sir William
Stanley,

Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither.
Into this chiefest thicket of the park.
Thus stands the case : Vou know, our king, my
brother.

Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands

He hath good usai(e and great liberty ;

And often, but attended with weak guard,

Comtrs hunting this way to disport himself.

I have advertis'd him by secret means.

That if about this hour, he make his way.

Under the colour of his usual game.

He shall here find his friends, with horse and meO)

To set him free from his captivity.

Enter King EDWARD, and a ffuntstnan.
Hunt. This way, my lord ; for this way lies the
Kame,

K. Edw. Nay, this way, man ; see where the

huntsmen stnnd

Now, brother of Gloster,lord Hastings, and the rest.
Stand you thus close to steal the bishop's deer?

Olo, Brother, the time and case requireth haste;
Your horse stands ready at the park comer.
A'. Edw. But whither shall we then ?
Ifast. To Lynn, my lord; and ship from thenc*
to Flauders.

60 THIRD PART OF Act 4.

GI&. Well guess'd, believe me ; for that was «iy

meaning.

JC. Edw. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardoess.
Olo. But wherefore stay we f 'tis uo time to talk.
JC. Edw. Huntsman, what aay'st thou 1 wilt thou
go along 7

Hunt. Better do so, than tarry and he hang d.
Gio. Come then, away ; let's have no more ado.
K. Edw. Bishop, farewell; shield thee from
Warwick's trown :
And Dray, that I may repossess the crowii.

SCENE VI.
room in the Tower.

Siiter Kine HP.NRY, CLARENCE, WAR-
WICK, SOMERSET, young RICHMOND,
OSI-'Olin, MONTAGUE, Lieutenant of the
'^'umcr, and attendants.

K.Hen. Master lieutenant, now that God and
friends (r

Have shaken Edward from the regal seat ;
And turn'd my captive state to liberty.
My fear to hope, my soitows unto joys ; •
At our enlargement what are thy due fees?

Lieu. Subjects may, challenge nothing of their
sovereigns ;
But, if an humble prayer may prevail,
I then crave pardon of your majesty.

K. Hen. For what, lieutenant ? for well using me ?
Nay, be thou sure, I'll well requite thy kindness.
For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure :
Ay, such a pleasure as iiicaged birds
Conceive, when, after many moody thoughts.
At last, by notes of household harmony.
They quite forget their loss of liberty.—
But, Warwick, after God, thou set st me free.
And chiefly therefore I thank God, and thea j
He was the author, thou the instrument.
Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite.
By living low, where fortune cannot hurt ma ;
Aud that the people of this blessed land
May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars ;
"Warwick, although my head still wear the cro^yn,
I here resign my government to thee.
For Ulou art fortunate in all thy de«(ls*

Sc. 6.

KING HENRY VI.

6X

Jf 'ar. Your grace Iiath still been fam'd for virtuous;
And BOW may seem as wise as virtuous.
By spying, and avoiding, fortune's malice.
For tew men rightly temper with the stars :
Yet in this oue thing let me blame your grace.
For choosingme, wKen Clarence is in place.

C7nr. Noj Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway^
To whom the heavens, in thy nativity,
Adjudg'd an olive branch, and laurel crown.
As likely to be West in peace, aiid war;
And therefore I yield thee my free consent.

f{''ar- And I choose Clarence only for projector.

K. Hen. Warwick, and Clarence, give me botI»
your hands ;

Now join your hands, and, with your hands, your
hearts.

That no dissension hinder government :
I make you both protectors of this land ;
While I myself will lead a private life.
And in devotion spend my latter days,.
To sin's rebuke, and my Crgator^s praise.
fFar. What answers Clarence to his sovereiL'n's
wiU?-

Ctar. That he consents, if Wamick yield consent ;
For on thy fortune I repose myself.

fVar. Why then, though loath,yetmust I be content:
AVe'il yoke together, like a double shadow
To Henri's body, and supply his place ;
I mean, in beajing weight of government.
While he enjoys the honour, and his ease*
And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful.
Forthwith that Ediyaid be pronounc'd a traitor.
And all his lands and goods be confiscate.

C/ar.Whaielsef and that succession be determin'd.

fVar. .^y, therein Clarence shaU not wanthispart.

K. Hen. But, with the first of all your chief affairs,,
Let me entreat, (for I command no more,)
That Margaret your queen, aiid my son Edward,
Be sent for, to return from France with speed :
For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear
My joy of liberty is half eclips'd.

Clar. It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed,

AT. Hen. My lord of Somerset, what youth is that..
Of whom you seem to have so tender care ?

Som. Mylie0;e,itiB young Henry,earl of Richmond.

K. Hen. Come hiUier, England's hope : If seci-et:
p'awers^ [/-u^a his hand on hitkuii^

THIRD PART OF Act*.

Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts.
This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss.
His looks are full of peaceful majesty ;
His head by nature fratn'd to wear a crown.
His hand to wield a sceptre ; and himself
Likely, in time, to bless a regal throne.
Make much of him, my lords; for this is he,
Must help you more than you are hurt by me.

Enter a Messenger.

fl'ttr. What news, my friend ?

Mess, That Edward is escaped from your brother.
And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.

fVur. Unsavoury news : But how made he escape?

Mess. He wasconvey'd hyRichard duke of Gloster,
And the lord Hastings, who attended him
In secret ambush on the forest side.
And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him ;
For hunting was his daily exercise.

fVar. My brother was too careless of his charge.—-
But let us hence, my sovureigji, to provide
A salve for any sore, that may betide.

\_Eaeuiit K. Henry, H'ur. Ciur. Lieut, and Attend.

Som. My lord, I like not of thia flifiht of Edward's:
For, doubtless. Burgundy will yield him help ;
And we shall have more wars, before't be long.
As Henry's late presaging prophecy
Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Rich-
mond ;

So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts
What may befall him, to his liarm and ours :
Therefore, lord Oxford, to prevent thfl worst,.
Forthwith we'll send him hence to Britany,
Till storms be past of civil enmity.

Oj/. Ay ; for, if Edward repossess the crown,
'Tis like, that Richmond with the vest shall down-

Som. It shall he so; he shall to Britany.
Come therefore, let*s about it speedily. {Ea'cunCt

SCENE VII.

Be/ore Yuri'.

Enter Aw^EDWAKD.GLOSTER, HASTINGS,
and Forces.

K.Kdw. Now, brother Richard, lord Hastings,
and the rest;
¥«t tb,u3 far fortune maketh us ameuds,

Sc. 7. KING HENRY VI.

63

And says — that once more I shall interchange
Mj' waned state for Henry's i-egal crown.
M ell liave we pass'd, and now repass'd the seas,
And brought desired help from Burgundy :
What then remains, we being thus arriv'd
From Ravenspurg haven before the gates of York,
But that we enter, as into our dukedom ?

Gh. The gates made fast! — Brother, I like not thiaj
For many men, that stumble at the threshold.
Are well foretold — that danger lurks within.

K.Edm. Tush, man I abodements must not now
affright us :
By fair or foul means we must enter in.
For hither will our friends repair to us.

Hast. My liege, I'll knock once more to snmmOQ
them.

Enter, on the toaUs, the Mayor of York,a7id his brethren .
Mai/. My lords, we were forewarned of your
coming.

And shut the gates for safety of ourselves j
For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.

A'. Edte. But, master mayor, if Henry be your king.
Yet F.dward, at the least, is duke of'^York.

May . True, my good lord j I know you fur no less .

K. Edtn. Why, and I challenge nothing but my
dukedom ;
As being well content with that alone.

Glo. But, when the fox hath once got in his nose.
He'll soon find means to make the body follow.

Ilast. \Vhy, master mayor, why stand you in a
doubt ?

Open the gates, we are king Henry's friends.
May. Ay, say you so! the gates shall then be

open'd. [Ei-mfit from abom,

Glo. A wise stout captain, and persuaded soon !
Ilust. The good old man would fain, that all were

well.

So 'iwere not 'long of him : but, being enter'd,
1 doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade
Both him, and all his brothers, unto reason.

Re-enter the Mat/or, and two ylldermert, below.

K. Edw. So, master mayor : these gates must not
be shut.

But in the night, or in tie time of war.

64

THIRD PART OP Act 4.

What ! fear not, mail, but yield me up the Iteys j.

[Tai:es his xe^J^
For Edward will defend the town, and thee.
And all those friends, that deign to follow me.

Drum. Enter MONTGOMERY, and Forces^
marching.

Gh. Brother, this is sir John Montgomery,
Our trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd.

A'. E(iw. Welcome, sir John ! But why come you
in arms ?

Mont. To help kinc Edward, in his time of storm.
As every loyal subject ought to do.

K. Edw. Thanks, guod Montgomevy : But we noifr
forget

Our title to the crown ; and only eliiim

Our dukedom, till God please to send the rest.

Mont. Then fare yoQ well, for I wUl hence ajfaifl^
I came to serve a king, and not a duke, —
Drummer, strike up, and let us march away.

march begun.

K. Edw. Nay, stay, sir John, awhile j and well
debate.

By what safe means the crown may be recovered.

Mont. What talk you of debating ? in fow words.
If you'll not here proclaim youi-solf our king,
I'll leave you to your fortune ; and be gone.
To keep them back, that come to succour j-ou :
Why should we fight, if you pietend no title I

Glo. Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice-
points I

K.Edw. When we grow stronger, thea we'll

make our claim :
Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.
ilust. Away with scrupulous wit ! now arma

must rule.

Gh. And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.
Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand;
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.

K. Edw. Then be it as you will ; for 'tis my right.
And Henry but usurps the diadem.

Mont. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself;.
And now will I be Edward's champion.

Jiast. Sound, trumpet ; Edward shall be here
proclaim'd : —
Come, fsUow-soldier, make thovi proclamation.

[Gives him apa^er. Ftauris^-

Sc. 8i KING HENRY YI.

B5

Sold. {■Reads.'] Edieard the fourth, hy tie grace of
God, X-ing of England and France, and lord of Ire^
iand, §-c.

Mont. And whosoe'er gailisays king Edward's
right,

By this I challeuge him to single fight.

VThrows down his gauntlet,

^11. Long live Edward the fourth !

K. Edw. ThanVsjbrave Montgomery ; — and thanks
unto you all.
If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness.
Now, for this night, let's harbour here in York :
And, when the morning sun shall raise his car
Above the border of this horizon.
We'll forward towards Warwick, and his mates;
For, well I wot, that Henry is no soldier.—
Ah, froward Clarence !— how evil it beseems thee.
To flatter Henry, and forsake thy brother !
Yet, as we may,we*ll meet both thee and Warvnck.— .
Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the day;
And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.

SCENE vni.

London. A room in the palace.

.Sn^^rA'in^ HENRY. WARWICK,CrMRENCE,
MONTAGUE, EXETER, and OXFORD.

Wffr. What counsel, lords ? Edward from Belgia,
With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders,
Hath jjass'd in safety through the narrow seas.
And with his troops doth march amain to London j
And many giddy people flock to him.

OAf. Let's le,vy men, and beat him back again.

Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out ;
Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.

ffar. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends.
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war ;
Those will I muster up : — and thou, son Clarence,
Shalt stir, in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,
The knights and gentlemen to come with thee: —
Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find
Men well inclin'd to hear what tliou command'st
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd.
In Oxfordshire shall muster up thy friends. —
My sovereign, with the loving citizens,—

66

THIRD PART OF

Act 4.

liiVe to his island, girt in with the ocean,
Or modest Dian, circled with her nymphs, —
Shall rest in London, till we come to him.—
Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.—
Farewell, my sovereign.

A'. Hen. Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy s
true hope.

Clar. In sign of truth I kiss your highness hand!

/f. Hen. Well-minded Clarence, lie thou fortunate.

Mont. Comfort, my lord;— and so I take my leave.

Oa/. And thus [Kissing Henrfs hand.] 1 seal
my truth, and bid adieu.

K. Hen. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,
And all at once, once more a happy farewell.

/f'ifl- Farewell, sweetlords; let's meet atCoventry.

\_Exeunt fF-tr. Clur. Oxf. and Mont,

K. Hen. Here at the p^ilace will I rest a while.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship ?
Methinks, the power, tliat Edward hath lU field, ,
Should not he aide to encounter mine.

Exe. The doubt is, that he wiU seduce the rest.

K. Hen. Thai's not my fear, my meed hath got
me fame.

I have not stopp'd mine ears to then- demands.
Nor posted oft their suits with slow delays ;
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds.
My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs.
My mercy dry'd their water-flowing tears ;
1 have not been desirous of their wealth.
Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies.
Nor forward of revenge, though they much err d i
Then why should they love Edward more thau me?
No, Exeter, these graces challenye grace:
And» when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
*rhe lamb will never cease to follow him.

SSImits within. A Lancnster ! A Lancaster.'
Exe. Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are these ?

Enter King ED W.\RD, GLOSTER, and Soldiert.
K.Edw. Seize on the sharae-fac'd Henry, bear
him hence.

And once again proclaim us king of England.—
You are the tbunt, that makes small Ijrooks to flow;
JJow stops thy spring ; my sea shall suck them dry.
And swell so much 'the higher by their ebb.—
Hence with him to the Tower; let him not speak.

\^Exeunt some with Mng Henry,

Sc. 1. KING HENRY vr. er

And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course.
Where peremptory Warwick now reraiuns ;
The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay>
Cold biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay.

Glo. Away betimes, before his forces join.
And take the great-grown traitor unawares :
Brave warriors, march amain to^va^■ds Coventry;

\Exeunt,

ACT V. SCENE I.
CoventTj/.

Enter, upon Ue wntls, WARWICK, the Mayor of
Coventry, two Messengers, and Others.
War. .Where is the post, that came from valiant
Oxford T

fiow far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow ?

1 Mtss. By this at Dunsmore, inarching hithar-
ward. \

iV<\r. How far off is our brother \loDtague ?—
Where is the post, that came from Montague?

3 Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop*

^;nfffr 5?f- JOHN SOMERVILLE.

7Var. Say, Somerville, what says my loving son?
And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?

Som. At Southam I did leave him with his force3>
And do expect him here some two hours hence.

\Drum heard-.

iVar. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum.
Som. It is not his, my lord ; here Southam lies ;
Tlie drum, your honour hears, marcheth front
Warwick .

7Var. Who shoi^ld that be ? belike, unlook'd-for
friends.

Som. They are athand,and you sflall (fuickly know.

Dnms. Enter Kint^ EDWARD, GLOSTER,
(inrf Forces, marchmg.
JC. Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a
parle.

Glo. See, how the surly Warwick mans the walls.

H'ar. O, uulwd spite ! is sportful Edward come ?
Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduo'd.
That we could hear no news of his repair T

K.Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city
gates,

Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy ka«ft !—

THIRD PART OP Act 5.

Call Edwtird — king, and at his hands beg mercy.
And he shall pardon thee these outrages.

IVar. Nay, rather wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down ? —
Call Warwick — patron, and be penitent,
And thou shalt still remain the duke of York.

Glo. I thought, at least, he would have said—
the king J

Or did he make the Jest against his will X
fl'ar. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift ?

, Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give ;

I'll do thee service for so good a gift.

jrar. 'Twas I, that gave the kingdom to thy
brother.

K.Edw. Why, then 'Us mine, if but by War-
wick's gilt.

- tfar. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight:
And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift n^ain ;
And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.

K. Edu3. But Warwick's king isEd ward's prisoner:
And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this, —
"What is the body, when the head is off?

Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast.
But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten,
The king was sHly fiiiger'd from the deck !
You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace,
And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower.

K.Edw. 'Tisevenso; y«t you are Warwick still.

Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel down,
kneel down :
Nay, when ? strike now, or else the iron cools.

A^ar. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow.
And with the other fling it at thy face,
Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee.

K.Eda. Sail how thou canst, have wind and
tide thy friend ;
This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair.
Shall, whiles the head is warm, and new cut off.
Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood, —
fVind-chufiging H'araick note can change no more.

Enter OXFORD, with drum and colours.
fVar. O cheerful colours ! see, where Oxford
comes I

Oif. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!

[Oi/urd and his Fones enter the city.
Oio. Tht gates are open, let us enter too.

So. I. KING HENRY VI. 69

K. Rdw. So other foes may set upon 6ur backs.
Stand we in good array ; for they, no doubt*
Will issue out again, and bid us battle :
If not, the city being but of small defence.
We'll quiclily rouse the traitors in the same.

fVur. O, welcome, Oxford ! for we want thy help.

I Enter MONTAGUE, with dram and colours.
I Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster !
f • [He end his Forces enter the dtp.

t Olo. Thou and thy brother both sball buy this
■ treason

' Even with the dearsest blood your bodies bear.

JT. Edw. The hanler match'd, the greater victoryi
My mind presageth happy gaiu, and conquest.

Enter SOMERSET, with dram and colours.
Sf/m. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster !

[//e and his Forces enter the city.
Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset*
Have sold their lives unto the house of York ;
And thou shall be the third, if this sword hold.

Enter CLARENCE, with drum and colours.
fVoT. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps,
along.

Of force enough to bid his brother battle ;
With %vhom an upright zeal to right prevails.
More than the nature of a brother^ love : —
Come, Clarence, come ; thou wilt, if Warwick calls.
tVar. Father of Warwick, kniow you what this
means ? [ Taking the red rose out of his cap.
Look here, I throw my infamy at thee :
1 <viU not ruinate my father's house,
Who gave his blood to lime the stones together.
And set up Lancaster. Why,trow'stthou,Warwict>
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural.
To bend the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother, and his lawful king?
Perhaps, thou wilt object my holy oath :
To keep that oath, were more impiety
Than Jephtha's when he sacrific'd his daughter..
I am BO sorry for my trespass made.
That, to deserve well at my brother's hands,
I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe ;
With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee,
(As I wai meet thee, if thbu stir abroad,)

70

THIRD PART OF Act 5.

To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
And sOj proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee»
And to my brother turn ray blushing cheelc3.—
Pardon me, Edward, I %viU make amends;
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults.
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
K.Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times mora
belov'd,

Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.

Glo. Welcome, goodClareuce ; this is brother-like.

fVar. O passing traitor, perjur'd and unjust t

A'. Srfif. \Vhat, Warwiclc, ivilt thou leave th«
town, and fight!
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?

fVar. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence t
I will away towards Bariiet pi'esently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.

K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leada
the way : —

LordB, to the field ; Saint George, and victory.

\_March. Bxeunt>

SCENE II.

A Jleld of battle near liamet.
Alarums, and Excursions. Enter King EDWARt),
bringing ift H'arwick wounded,
K.Edw. So, lie thou there : die thou, and die
our fear ;

For Warwick %vas a bug, that fear'd ua all. —

Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee.

That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.

lE,vi£.

fl'ar. Ah, who is nigh T come to me, friend, or foe.
And tell me, who is victor, York or Warwick?
Why ask I that? my mangled body shows,
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, ,
That [ musi j-ield my body to the earth.
And, by my tall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept;
Whose top-branch ovorpeer'a Jove's spreading tree/
And kept low shrubs from winter's pox/erful wind.
These eyes, that now are dimm'd witn death's black
veil,

Have beea as pierclug as the mid-day sun«

Sc. 3. KING HENRY VI.

71

To search the secret treasons of the world :

The wrinkles in my brows, now fiU'd with bloody

^Vere liken'd oS to kingly sepulchres ;

For who Hv'd Hug, but I could di^ his grave?

And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow T

Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood I

My parks, my walks, my manors that I had.

Even now forsake me ; and, of all my lands.

Is nothing left me, but my body's length !

'W'hy, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?

And, live we now we can, yet die we must.

Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET.
Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick ! wert thouas we are.
We might recover hU our loss again I
The queen from France hath brought a puissant
power ;

Even now we heard the news : Ah, could'st thou fly !

H'ar. Why, then I would notfly. — Ah, Montague,
If thou lie there, sweet brother, take my hand.
And with thy Hps keep in my soul awhile!
Thou lov*st me not ; for, brother, if thou didst.
Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood.
That glews my Hps, and will not let me speak.
Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

Som. Ah, Warwick, Montaj^e hath breath'd his

And to tlw latest ga^p, cried out for Warwick,
And said — Commend me to my valiant bi-other.
And more he would have said ; and more he spoke,
AVliich sounded like a caiuion in a vault.
That might not be distinguish 'd ; but, at last,
I well mi^ht hear deliver'd with a groan, —
O, farewell, Warwick !

ff'iir. Sweet rest his soul !—

Fly, lords, and save yourselves ; for Warwick bids
You JiU farewell, to meet again in heaven. [Z)i«.

Oa/. Away, away, to meet the queen's great
power! {_Eavunt, hearing off IVarwick's bod^.

SCENE III.
j4nother part of the field.
Flourish. Enter Kinsr EDWARD in triumph:
vith CLARENCE, "GLOSTER, and the rest.
K. Edw. Thus far our foriuue keeps an upward
coui-sc,

72 THIRI) PAST ()F Act 5.

And we are grac*d with wreaths of vietory.
Biit, in the midst of this bright- shining day,
I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud.
That will encounter with our glorious sun.
Ere he attain his eiseful western bed :
I mean, my lords, — those powers, that the queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast.
And, as we hear, march on to flight with us.

CUtr. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud»
And blow it to the source from whence it cam* :
Thy very beams will diy those vapours up ;
For every cloud engendei's not a storm.

Glo. The queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford> fled to her;
If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd.
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.*

K. Edw. We are advtrtis'd by our loving friends.
That they do hold their course toward Tewksburyj
We, having now the best at Barnet field,
Will thither straight, for willingness rids way ;
And, as we march, our strength will be augmented
lu every county as we go along. —
Strike up the drum; cry — Courage ! and away.

\Eieunt.

SCENE IV.
Plains near Tew^-shurj/.
March. Enter Queen MARGARET, Prince ED-
WARU, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and Soidiers.
" Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail
their loss.

But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast he now blown over-board.
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood t
Yet lives our pilot still: Is't meet, that he
Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad.
With tearful eyes add water to the sea,
And give more strength to that, which hath too much;
Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock.
Which industry and courage might have sav'd ?
Ah, what a shame ! ah, what a Vault were this!
Say, Warwick was our anchor ; What of that f
And Montague our top-mast; What of hira ?
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles ; What of these ?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
Aild Somerset another goodly mast t

Sc. 4. KING HENRY VI. 75

The friends of France our shrouds and tacllings ?
And, ttiouth unsldlfiil, why not Ned and I
For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge ?
We will not from the helm, to sit and weep ;
But keep our course, thout,'h the rou^h wind say— Jio,
From shelves and rocks, that threaten us with wreck
As good to chide the waves, as speak them £air.
And what is Edward, but a ruthless sea?
What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit ?
And Richard, but a ragged fatal roclt ?
All these the enemies to our poor bark.
Say, you can swim ; alas, 'tis but a while :
Tread on the sand ; why, there you quickly sink •
Bestride the rock ; the tide will wash you off
Or else you famish, that's a threefold death.
This speak I, lords, to let you understand.
In case some one of you would fly from us.
That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers.
More than with ruthless waves.with sands, and rocks
Why, courage, then ! what caimot be avoided,
Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear.
Prince. Methinks, a woman of this valiant spirit
Should, if a coward heard her speak these words.
Infuse his breest with magnaninnty.
And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.
1 speak not this, as doubting any here :
For, did I but suspect a fearful man.
He should have leave to go away betimes;
Lest, in our need, he might infect another.
And make him of like spirit to himself.
If anj^ such be here, as God forbid!
Let him depart, before we need his help.

Oj/. Women and children of so high a courage t
And warriors faint ! why, 'twere perpetual shame.-..
O, brave young prinee ! thy famous grandfather
-Doth live again in thee ; Long may'st thou live.
To bear his image, and renew his glories !

Som, And he that will not fight "for such ahope^
Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day,.
If he arise, be mock'd and wonder''d at.
, Q.Mur. Thanks, gentle Somerset sweet Ox-
ford, thaiiks.
Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath no-
thing else.

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Prepare you, lurds, for Edward is at haad^

74

THIRD PART OF Act 5.

Ready to figlit; therefore be resolute.

Oxf. I thought no less : it is his policy,
To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.

■Sbm. But he's deceWd, we are in readiness.

Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your for-
wardness.

0.2/,Here pitch our battle,hence we will not budge.

Marclt. Enter, at a dtstnncey King EDWARD,
CLARENCE, GLOS TER, and Forces,

K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the
thorny wood,
Which,by the heavens* assistance, and your strength.
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
I need not add more fuel to your fire,
For, well I wot, ye blaze to burn them out :
Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.

Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I
should say.
My tears gainsay : for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
Therefore, nomore but this : — IIeiiry,yoursovereign,
Is prisoner to the fue ; his state usurp'd.
His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain.
His statutes canceU'd, and his treasure spent;
And yonder is the wolf, that makes this apoil.
You fight injustice : then, in God's name, lords.
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.,

{Exeunt both Armies.

SCENE V.
Another part of the same.
Alarums: Eicursians: and afterwards a Retreat.
Then enter King EDWARD, CLARENCE,
GLOSTF.R, and Forces; with Queen MARGA-
RET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, prisoners.
K. Edw. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils.
Away witli Oxford to Hammes' castle straight:
For Somerset, ofi" with his guilty head.
Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak.
Oif. Formypart, I'll not trouble thee with words.
Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to ray.
fortune.

\^E.ieunt Ojfjrd and Sotnerset, guarded.
Q.Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous world.
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.

Sc. 5. KING HENRY Vt. 75

K.Edw. Ts proclamation madcj — that, who finds
Edward,

Shall have a high reward, and he his life!

Olo. It is : and, lo, where youthfiU Edward comes.

Enter Soldiers, with Prince EDWARD.
K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him
speak :

What ! can bo young a thorn begin to priclt ?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou malce.
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects.
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to ?

Prince. Speak like a subject, pioud ambitious York!
Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth ;
Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou.
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee.
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.

jj. A/ar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolvM !

Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat.
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.

Prince. Let j^Isop fable in a winter's night;
His currish riddles sort not with this place.

G/o. By heaven, brat, 111 plague you for that word.

g. Mar. Ay, thou wastbom to be a plague to men.
lo. h'or God's sake, take away this captive scold.
Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back
rather.

A'. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I wiU diarm yosr
tongue.

Clar. ifutiitor'd lad. thou art too malapert.

Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful :
Lascivious Edward, — and thou perjur'd George —
And thou misshapen Dick, — I tell ye all,
I am your better, traitors as ye are ; — •
And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.

K.Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer
liere. [Stabs him.

Glo. Sprawl'st thou ? take that, to end thy agony.

{Glo. stahf him.

Clar. And there's for twitching me with perjury.

{Clar. stabs him.

Q. Afar. 0,-Iall me too !

Olo. Marry, and shall. {O^ers to kill her.

K. Edio. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done
too much.

Glo. Why should she live to fill the world with
words \

76 THIRP FART OP ActSw

K. Edm. What ! doth she swoon ! me means for
her recovery.

GIq. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother f
J'U hence to Loudon on a serious matter :
Ere ye come there, he sure to hear some news.

C/flr. What? what? .

Qlo. The Tower, the Tower! \_h.txt.

Q.Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy nio-
ther, boy ! . , .

Canst thou not speak !— O traitors ! murderers !—
They, that stahb'd Csesar^ shed no blood at alU
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame.
If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
He was a man ; this, in respect,, a child r.
And men ne*er spend their fury oa. a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it t
No, no ; my heart will burst, an if I speak : —
And I will speak,, that so my heart may burst.—
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals 1
TH[ow sweel a plant have you untimely cropjp'd!
You have no children, butchers t if you had.
The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse :
But, if you ever chance to have a child.
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,
As.deathsmen ! you have rid this sweet young pruico.

JC.EiiiP.kway with her ; go bear her hence perfpvce.

Q, Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch ma-
here ;

Here sheath thy sword, III pardon thee my death :
What ! wilt thou not .' — then, Clarence, do it thou.

dar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.

Q. Mar. Good Claxeuce, dro ; sweet Clarence, do-
thou do it.

Clar. Didst tlwu not hear me swear, I would
not do itt

Q. Mar. Ay> but thou usest to forswear thyself;
'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.
What ! wilt thou not .? where is that devil's butcher,
Hard-favour*d Richard ? Richard, where art thouf
Thou art not here-: Murder is thy alms-deed; ,
petitioners for blood thou ne*er put'st back.

K. Edw. Away, I say ; I charge ye, bear her hence*

Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this,
priiice • {Ea-H, led out /orcilily-

K.Edw. Where's Richard gone?

Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I gU«)3^
T« make a bloody supper in the Tower.

Sc. 6. KING HENRY VI. 77

K. Edw. He*s sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence : discharge the common sprt
With pay and thanks, and let's away to London.
And see our gentle queen how well she fares ;
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. ^Exeunt.

SCENE VI.
London. A room in the Toicer.
^iBjr HENRY is discovered sitline with a book
in his hand, the Lieutehant attendine. Enter
GLOSTER. *

G/o. Good day, ray lord ! What, at your book so
hard ?

K.Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should
say rather ; '
'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better :
Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike,
And tioth pi-eposterous ; therefore, not good lord.
Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves : we must
confer. ^Eait Lieutenant.

h.Uen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the
■wolf :

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece.

And next his throat unto the butcher's knife, •

What scene of death hath Roscius now to act }

f-Vo. Suspicion ever haunts the guilty mind ;
The thief aolh fear each bush an officer.

K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush.
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush :
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird.
Have now the fatal object in my eye,
Where my poor young iras lim'd, was caught, and
kill'd.

Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete,
That taught bis son the office of a fowl T
And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.

A. Hen. I, Disdalus ; my poor bay, Icarus ;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy, -
Thy brother Edward ; and thyself, the sea.
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words 1
My breast can belter brook thy dagger's point,
Than can my ears that tragic history —
But wherefore dost thou come ? is't for my life ?

Glo. Think'st thou I am aa executioner .*
119

79 THIRD PART OF Act 5.

K Hen A persecutor, I am sure, thou art i
If murdering innocents be executing,
Whv then thou art an executioner.

gIo Thy son I kill'd for his presumption .

Sr. ffe». Hadst thou been liillM, when first thoo
didst presume.
Thou hadst Jot liv'd to l<iU a son of mine.
Ind thus I prophesy,-that many a thousand,

owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign ,
ihe nrght-crow cried, aboding 1"'"='^ "'"Vlr.es-
bogs howlM.and hideous tempest, shook down tiees,

H=e^nt;^ie';"n°Ltar»%l%

To w^t,-an indigest deformed lump
«a^suLtiif.rytaVwtfrouw^

^"^-Ln^p-ar no more ;-Die, P>ophe,._,^^n *y

1 that have neither pity, love, nor fear.—
iJeed, 'tis true, that ftenry told me of;
For 1 have often heard mv motljer »ay,
rc^me into the world witV my legs torward .
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
Aud seek their ruin, that usurp'd our right!
^Z SdwUe Ud«-d : and tL wom^a coed,

Sc. 7. KING HENRY VI.

79

I 0 Jesu biess us, he is horn with teeth .'
And so I was ; which plainly signified—

I That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'a my body so.
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother :
And this word— love, which greybeards call divine.
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me ; 1 am myself alone.—
Clarence, beware ; thou keep'st me from the'light;
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee :
For 1 will bur, abroad such prophecies.
That Edward shall be fearful of his life;
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone ;
Clarence, thy turn is next; and then the rest;
Counting myself but bad, till I be best.—
I'll throw thy body in another room.
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. [_Exit.

SCENE VII.
7'he same. A room in the Palace.
King EDWARD is discooered silting on his thronei
Oueen ELIZABETH with the infant Prince,
CI-ARENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and
Others, near hitn.

A'. Edio. Once more we sit in England's royal
throne, $
Re-purchas'd with the blood of enfemies.
"What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn.
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride?
Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renowu'd
For hardy and undoubted champions :
Two Clifiords, as the father and the son.
And two Northumberlands ; two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound :
With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague,

That in theiv chains fetter'd the kingly lion.
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat.
And made our footstool of security. —
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself.
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night;
Went all afoot ia summer's scalding heat.

80

THIRD PART OF, ^e.

Act 5.

That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace ;
And of our labours thou shall reap the gain.

Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid ;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave ;
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back : —
Work thou the way, — aiid thou shall execute.

K.Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely
queen ;

And kiss your prhicely nephew, brothers bov h.

Clar. The duty, that I owe unto your majesty,
1 seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.

A'. Ed)o. Thanks, noble Clarence ; worthy bro-
ther, thanks.
Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence thou
sprang'st,

Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit : —
To say the truth, »o Judas kiss'd his master ; "1
And cried — all hail ! when as he meant — f^side,
all harm. J
K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights.
Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves.
Clar. VVhat will your grace have done with Mar-
garet ?

Reignier, her father, to the king of France
Hath ^awn'd the Slcils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
K. Edw. Awny with her, and waft her hence to
France.

And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stalely triumphs, mirthful comick shows.
Such as befit the pleasures of the court I—
Sound, drums and trumpets !— farewell, sour annoy !
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy, [Exeunt.

KING RICHARD III.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.
Kini! EDWARD the Fourth.
EDWARD, pvince of Walss, 1

afterwards K. Edward V. f sons to the King.
RICHARD, Duke of York, J
GEORGE, duke of Clarence, 1
RICHARD, dukeofGloster, >brotherstotheKing.

afterwards K. Richard III.
A TOunK Son of Clarence. , ,, „ ,,,,

HENRY,eBrlotRichmond,atterwardsK.Heni-yVII.
Cardinal BOURCHIER, archbishop of Canterbury.
THOMAS ROTHERAM, archbishop of York.

JOHN MORTON, bishop of Ely.
Duke of BUCKINGHAM.

Duke of NORFOLK : Earl of SURREY, his son.
Earl RIVERS, brother to king Edward's queen.
Marquis of DORSET, and Lord GREY, her sons.
Earl of OXFORD. Lord HASTINGS. Lord
STANLEY. Lord LOVEL. „,„„.„„
Sir THOMAS VAUGHAN. Sir RICHARD

SirWILLIAMCATESBY.SirJAMESTYRREL.
Sir JAMES BLOUNT. Sir WALTER HER-

Sif^BOBERT BRAKENBURY, lieutenant of
the Tower. _ .

CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a Priest. Ano-
ther Priest. „ „

Lord Mayor of London. Sheriif of Wiltshire.

ELIZABETH, queen of king Edward IV.
MARGARET, widow of king Henry VI.
Duchess of YORK, mother to king Edward IV.

Clarence, and Gloster.
Lady ANNE, widow of Edward prince of Wales,

son to kinc Henry VI.; afterwards married to the

Duke of Gloster.
A young Daughter of Clarence.

Lords, and other Attendants ; two Gentlemen, a
Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers,
Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.

Sccne,~^England.

KING KICHARD III.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Londoji. A street.

Enter GLOSTER.
GIo, Now is the winter of our discontent
Made zlorious summer by this sun of Yorlc;
And all the clouds that lowr*d upon our house.
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings.
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wi iulded front
And now, — instead of mounting barbed steeds.
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, —
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, — that am not shap'd for sportive tricks.
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion.
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, iinfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up.
And that so lamely and unfashionable,
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them ; —
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace.
Have no delight to pass away the time ;
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun.
And descant on mine own deformity :
And therefore. — since I cannot prove a lover>
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, —
I am determined to prove a villain,
Aud hate the idle pleasures of these days.

S4 KING RICHARD III. Act 1.

Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous.
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams.
To set my brother Clarence, and the king,
In deadly hate the one against the other :
And, if king Edward be as true and just,
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous.
This day should Clarence closely be rnew'd up;
About a prophecy, which says— that G
Of Edwavd's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my aoul 1 here Clarence
comes.

i^«ifrCLARENCE.tr«arrferf.fl«rfBRAKENBURY.
Brother, good day : What means this armed guard.
That waits upon your grace?

Clar. His majesty,

Tendeiinz my person's safety, hath appoiuted
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

Oio. Upon what cause T

Clar. Because my name is— George.

Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours ;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers :—
O, belike, his majesty hath some intent,
That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower.
But what's ihe matter, Clarence? may I know?

Ciar. Yea, Richard, when I know ; for, I protest,
As yet I do not : But, as I can learn.
He hearkens after prophecies, and dreams ;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says — a wizard told him, that by G
His issue disinherited should be ;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought, that T am he :
These, as I leavn, and such like toys as these.
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.

Glo. Why, tliis it is, when men are rul'd by
women : —

•Tis not the king, that sends you to the Tower ;

My lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 'tis she,

That tempers him to this extremity.

Was it not she, and that good man of worship,

Antony Woodeville, her brother there.

That raude him send lord Hastings to the Tower;

From whence this present day he is deliver'd ?

We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe.

Clar. By heaven, I thiuV, there is no man secure.
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds

Sc. 1. KIKG RICHARD lU. 85

That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore.
Hew^ you not, what an tumble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery^?

Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what,— I think, it is our way.
If we will keep in favour vnxh the king,
To be her men, and wear her livery ;
The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself.
Since that our brother dubb'd thera gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.

Brak. I l)eseech your graces both to pardon me ;
His majesty hatli straitly given in charge,
Tliat no man shall have private conference.
Of what degree soever, with his brother.

Glo. jLven soT an please your worship, Braken-
bury,

You may partake of any thing we say :
We speak no treason, man ; — We say, the king
Is wise, and virtuous ; and his noble queen
Well struck in years; fair, and not jealous: —
We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty fool,
A cherry lip,

A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue ;
And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks :
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?
Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought
to do.

Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell
thee, fellow.
He that doth naught with her, excepting one.
Were best to do it secretly, alone.

BTok. What one, my lord?

Gh. Her husband, knave Would'st thou bo-
tray me?

Brak. 1 beseech your grace to pardon me ; and,
withal,

Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will
obey.

Glo. W^e are the queen's abjects, and must obey.
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, —
Were it, to call king Edward's widow — sister^-T^.
I will perform it, to enfranchise you.
Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood*
Touches me deeper than you can ima^pae.

86 KING RICHARD III. Aetl.

Cfar. 1 know, it pleaseth neither of us well.

Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall uot be long;
I will deliver you, or else lie for you :
Mean time have patience.

Ctar, I must perforce ; farewell.

[^Eaeunt Clarence, Brakenburi/, and Guard.

Glo. Go, tread the path thatthoushaltne'erretura.
Simple, plain Clarence ! — I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
But who comes here ? the new-deliver'd Hastings?

Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord!

Glo. As much unto my good lord chimherlaiii t
Well are you welcome to this open air.
How hath your lordship hrook'd imprisonment?

Hast. With patieiice,nohle lord, as prisoners must:
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks>
That were the cause of my impi-isonment.

Glo. No doubt.no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;
For they, that were your enemies, are his.
And have prevail'd as much on him, as you.

Hast. More pity, that the eagle should be mew'd,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glo. What news abroad ?

Hast. No news so bad abroad, .as this at home ;—
The king ia sickly, weak, and melancholy.
And his physicians fear him mightily.

Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long.
And over-much cousum'd his royal person ;
''Hs very grievous to he thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?

Hast. He is.

Oh. Go you hefore, and I will follow you.

{Exit Hastings.
He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die.
Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven.
I'll in, to urge nis hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments ;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live :
Which done, God take king Edward to his mercy.
And leave the world for me to bustle in !
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter:
What though I kill'd her husband, a«d her father?

Sc. 2. KING RICHARD III. 87

The readiest way to make the wench amends.
Is— to become her husband, and her father :
The which will 1 ; not all so much for love.
As for another secret close intent.
By marrying her, which I must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market :
Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives, and
reigns ;

When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

SCENE II.
7'fte same. Another street.
Enter the corpse of King HENRY the Sixth, bornt
tn aa open coffin, Gtnttemen bearing halberds, to
guuni it; and Lady ANNE as mourner.
Anne. Set down, set do^vn your honourable load,—

If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,

AVhilst i a while obsequiously lament

The untimely full of virtuous Lancaster.

Poor key-cold figure of a holy kiusj !
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
TJiou bloodless remnant of that royal blood !
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
lo hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
Siabb'd by the self-same hand, that made thesB
wounds I

Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,

I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes :

O, cursed be the hand, that made these holes !

Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it!

Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hence!

More direful hap betide that hated wretch.

That makes us wretched by the death of thee.

Than \ can wish to adders, spiders, toads.

Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives !

If ever he have child, abortive be it.

Prodigious, and untimely brought to light.

Whose ugly and unnatural asp&ct

May fright the hopeful mother at the view ;

And tliat be heir to his unhappiness !

It ever he have wife, let her be made

More miserable by the death of him.

Than I am made by my young lord, and thee!—

Come, now, towards Chertsey with your holy load.

88 KING^ICHARD III. Act I.

Taken from Paul's to be interred there ;
And, still as you are weary of the weight.
Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry s corse.

[JVie Btaren tiike up lis corpst, anii advance.

Enter GLOSTER.
aia. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set It

down. . , .

Anne. What black magician conjures up this

fiend,

To stop devoted charitable deeds I , c • ,

Oto. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint
Paul,

I'll make a corse of Mm that disobeys.
1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin

(?/o.''unmannet'd dog ! stand thou, when I com-
mand :

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast.
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot.
And spurn upon thee, beggar, tor thy boldness.

{Tie Hearers set down tie eoffn.
Anne. What, do you tremble ? are you all afraid T
Alas, I blame you not ; for you are mortal.
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. —
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell !
Thou had'st but power over his mortal body.
His soul thou canst not have ; therefore, begone.
Glo Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
Anae. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and
trouble us not ; , , ii

For thou bast maile the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds.
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries ; —
O gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds,
Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh !—
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity ;
For 'lis thy presence, that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells ;
Thy deed, inhuman, and unnatural.

Provokes this deluge most unnatural.

O God, which this blood mad'sl, revenge his death
O earth,which this blood drink'st, revenge his death !
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the murderer

dead, , .

Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick;

Sc. 2.

KING RICHARD III.

88

As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood,
W^hich his hell-^overn'd arm hath butchered !

Glo. Ladv, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

^nne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor
man :

No beast so fiei'ce, but knows some touch of pity.

Gh. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

^nnt. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth !

G!ii. More wonderful, when angels are so angry. —
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman.
Of these supposed evils, to give me leave.
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man.
For these known evils, but to give me leave.
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, tboa
canst make
No excuse current, but to bang thyself.

Glo. By such despair, I should accuse myself.

Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand ex-
cus'd ;

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself.
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Glo. Say, that I slew them not.

Anne. Why then, they are not dead:

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.

Glo. 1 did not kill your husband.

Anne. W'hy, then he is alive.

Glo. Nay.he is dead ; and slain byEdward's hand.

Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liesti queen
Margaret saw
Thy murderous faulcbion smoking in Ms blood ;
The which thou once didst bend against her breast.
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

Glo. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
Tliat laid their guilt upon my guiltlesss shoulders.

Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries :
Didst thou not kill this king?

Glo. I grant ye.

Anne. Dost grant me, hedge-hog? then, God
grant me t90,
Thoumay'st be damned for that wicked deed!
O, hs was gentle, mild, and virtuous.

90

KING RICHARD III.

Act 1.

Gio.The fitter for theKing of heaven that hath him.
^nne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never
come.

Gio, Let him thank me, that holp to send him
thither ;

For he was fitter for that place, than earth.
j^nne. And thou unfit for any place but hell,
Oto. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me

name it.
Anne. Some dungeon.

Glo. Your l>ed-chamber.

Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou
liest !

Glo. So will it, madam, till I He with you.
Anne. I hope so.

Glo. I know so. — But, pentle lady Anne, —
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
And fiiU somewhat into a slower method ; —
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry, and Edward,
As baneful as the executioner X

Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accura'd
affect.

Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect ;
Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep,
To undertake the death of all the world.
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide.
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

Glo. These eyes could uot endure that beauty's
wreck ;

You should not blemish it, if I stood by :
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that ; it is my day, my life.
Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death
thy life !

Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature ; thou art both.

Anne. I would I were, to be revenij'd on thee.

Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable.
To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband.

Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband.
Did it to help thee to a better husbana.

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

Glo. He lives, that loves you better than he could.

Anne, Name him.

Sc. 2. KING RICHARD HI. 91

Glo. Plantagenet.

iT'-T,. '^^^y- *»« was he.

Wo. The self-same name, but one of better natur«.
jlnne. Where is he T

Ulo. Here : .i^itt o( iim.l Why

dost thou spit at me ?
Annt.' WoaM it were mortal poison, for thy sake !
Gh. Never came poison from so sweet a place
Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toacf
Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes.
Ob. ahine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.
Anne. Would they were basilisks, to strike thee
dead !

Oto. I would they were, that I might die at once ;
Jor now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thbie from mine have drawn salt
tears,

Sham'd their asp6cts n-ith store of childish drops ■
Ihese eyes, which never shed remorseful tear — '
Not, when my father York and Edward wept,
lo hear the piteous moan that Rutland made.
When black-facM Clifford shook his sword at him
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child.
Told the sad story of niy father's death •
And twenty times made pause, to sob, and ween,
ITiat all the standers-by had wet their cheeks,
Like trees liedash'd with rain : in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ;
And what these sorrows could not thence eriiale,
Iby beauty hath, and made them blind with
weeping.

I never su'd to friend, nor enemy ;

My tougue could never learn sweet soothin? word ■

Jnut now thy beauty is piopos'd my fee.

My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to

T.,^1, 1- ISht looks scornfitll^ at Mm.

Teach not thy Iip such scorn ; for it was made

tor kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

V t \ '«™"8eM heart cannot forgive,

Wli f •r',.''""',"'''' sharp-pointed sword;

Which If thou please to hide in this true breast.

And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,

• lay It naked to the deailly stroke,

And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

l//e lays *is breast open ; she offers at it uiilh
/lis su'orii.

J«ay, do not pause ; for I did kill king Henry;—

S3 KING RICHARD HI. Actl.

But 'twas thy teauty that provolted me.

Nay, »ow despatch; 'twas I that stahb d young

Edward ;— ISh again ojfm at h,s breiM. ,
But 'twas thy-heavenly face *«^set me „u.

l';L^;rsteS';,ho"urhJ^v!rhthy dea.h,
I will not he thy executionev.

CTo. Then bid me WU myseU, and I will do it.

^nne. I have already. .

g"" That was in thy rage ;

Sneak it aiain, and, even with the word,
TKfhand! which, for thy love, did kill thy love.
Shall, for thy love, kill a tar truer love ;
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.

^„nc. I would, I knew thy heart._.^.^ .^^

■"CT" I tear me, both are false.
Gh,

Was^never true. ^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^-^

0,0. Say then, my peace is made.^^^ ^^^^^
Anne. '
Hereafter. , ,. . , ,

Olo. But shall I live m hope?

I ^o^^e, live so. ,^ ring.

To take, is not to |iv..^^^^ o„ * W,^-.
Gfo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger.
Even so thy breast encloseth my coor heart ,
Wear both of them, for both ol tliem are thtne.
And it thy poor devoted servant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
f hou dost confirm his happiness for ever.

e^.Tl^t^t^may please you leave these sad designs
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner.
And presently repair to Crosby-place ;
WheJe-atte? I have solemnly mterr d.
At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king.
And wet his grave with my repentant lears,-
I will with all expedient duty see you :
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Graat me this boon.

Sc. 2.

KING RICHARD III.

93..

^nne. With all my heart ; and much it joys me
too,

T« see you are become so penitent. —
Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me.
Glo. Bid me farewell.

■^ttfie. 'Tis more than you deserve :

But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already,

[Exeunt Lady Anne^ 7'ressci, and Berkley.

Gh, lake up the corse, birs.

^'««^- Towards Cbertsey, noble lord?

Glo. No, to White-Friars J there attend my
coming. {Eaeunt the resl, u-itk the corse.
«as ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won I
I'll have her, — but I will not keep her long.
Wliat! I, that kiU'd her husband, and his father.
To take her in her heart's extremest hate :
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes.
The bleeding witness of her hatred by ;
With G odjher conscience, and these bars againstme,
And I no friends to back my suit withal.
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her,— all the world to nothing !
Ha!

Hath she forgot already that brave prince,

Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since,

Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury ?

A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, —

Fram'd in the prodigality of nature.

Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,—

The spacious world cannot again atford :

And will she yet abase her eyes on me.

That cropp'd the L'olden prime of this sweet prince,

And made her widow to a woful bed ?

On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?

On me, that halt, and am mishapen thus I

My dukedom to a beggarly denier,

I do mistake my person all this while i

Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot.

Myself to be a marvellous proper man.

I'll be at charges for a looking-glass ;

And entertain a score or two of tailors.

To study fashions to adorn my body :

Since I am crept in favour with myself,

1 ^vill maintain it with some little cost.

But, first, I'll turn yon' fellow in his grave ;

94 KING RICHARD HI. Actl.

And then return lamenting to my love,—
Shine out, fair sun, till T have bought a gla*s.
That I may see my shadow as I pass, {Eait.

SCENE III.
The same. A room in the Palace.
Enter Queen ELIZABETH, Lord RIVERS, and
Lord GREY.
R\v. Have patience, madam ; there's no doubt,
his majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd health.
Grty. In that you brook it ill, it makes him.
worse :

Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort.
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
Q.Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of

me? ,. . , J

Grev. No other harm, but loss of such a lord.
Q. Eliz. The lo33 of such a lord includes qll harms.
Ut^. The heavens have bless'd you with a
goodly son.
To be your comforter, when he is gone.

Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young ; and his minority
Is put into the trust of Richard Gloster,
A man, that loves not me, nor none of you.
Hiv. Is it concluded, he shall be protector?
Q.Eliz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.

Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY.
Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and
Stanley.

Buck. Good time of day unto youv royal grace !
Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you hav»

been ! , J 1 i

Q.Eliz. The countess Richmond, good my iOTfl

of Stanley,

To your good prayer will scarcely say— amen.
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd,
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

Staa. I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers ;
Or, if she be accus'd on true report.
Bear with her wealaieas, which, I think, proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded maiiee.

Sc. 3. KING RICHARD lit. 9$

Q.Eliz. Saw you the Idng to-day, my lord of
Stanley T

Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham, and I
Are come from visiting his majesty. '
Q. Eliz . What likelihood of liis amendment, lords?
Buck. Madam, good hope ; his grace speaks
cheerfully.

Q.Eli-2.. God grant him health! Did you confer
with him 7

Buck, Ay, madam : he desires to make atonement
Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers,
And between them and my lord chamberlain •
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.'

Q. Eliz. 'Would all were well !— But that will
never be; —
I fear, our happiness is at the height.

Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET.
<?/o._They do me wrong, and I will not endure

Who are they, that complain unto the king.

That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?

nZ M^ '''^5' love his grace but lightly,

lhat till his ears with such dissentious rumours.

Jiecause I cannot flatter, and speak fair.

Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and co*.

Duck with Fi-ench nods and apish courtesy,

1 must be held a rancorous enemy.

Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm.

But thus his simple truth must be abus'd

By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

Gret/. To whom in all this presence speaks your
grace T

^/o. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace.
When have I iujur'd thee ? when done thee wrong T—
Or thee?— or thee T— or any of your faction?
^ plague upon you all! His royal grace,—
A\ horn God preserve better than you would wish !—
Cannot he quiet scarce a breathing- while,

n V^^ trouble him with lewd complaints.

Q.Ehz. Brother of G loster,you mistake the mattci":
J he kmg, of his own royal disposition.
And not provok'd by any suitor else ;
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
lhat in your outward action shows itself,
Agamst my children, brothers, and myself.

96 KING RICHARD HI. Actt.

Makes him to send ; that thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.

Gh. I cannot tell The world is grown so bad,
That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch :
Since every Jack became a gentleman,
There's maiiy a gentle person made a Jack.

Q.Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning,
brother Gloster ;
You envy my advancement, and my friends ;
God grant, we never may have need of you I

Gio. Meantime, God grants that we have need
of you ;

Our brother is imprison'd by your means,
Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility
Held in contempt; while great promotions
Are daily given, to enoble those
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a
ooble. ^ ,

Q.Eliz. By Him, that rais'd me to this careful
height

From that contented hap which I enjoy d,
I never did incense his majesty
Against the duke of Clarence, but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury,
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.

Gh. You may deny that you were not the cause
Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment,

Riv. She may, my lord ; for

Glo. She may, lord Rivers 7— why, who knows
not so ?

She may do more, sir, than denying that :
She may help you to many fair preferments ;
And then deny her aiding hand therein.
And lay those honours on your high desert.
"What may she not \ She may,— ay, marry, may
she, —

Riv. What, marry, may she?

Glo. What, marry, may she ? marry with a king,
A bachelor, a handsome stripling too :
I wis, your Krandam had a wovser match.

Q. Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long borne
Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter scotls :
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty
Of those gross taunts I often have ondur*d.
I had rather be a country servant-maid,
Thaa a great queen, with this condition—

Sc. 3.

KING RICHARD III.

9T

To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at :
Small joy have I in being England's queen.

Snicr Queen MARGARET, behind.
Q. Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I be-
seech thee !
Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me.
Glo. What ! threat you me with telling of the
king ?

Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said
I will avouch in presence of the king :
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
'Tis time to speak, my pains are quite forgot.

fl. Mar. Out, devil ! I vemember them too well: -
Thou Vill'dst my husliaud Henry in the Tower,
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband
king,

I was a pack-horse in his great affairs;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends ;
To royalize his blood, I spilt mine own.
Q.AIar. Ay, and mucli better blood than his,
or thine.

Glo. In all which time, you, and your husband
Grey,

Were factious for the house of Lancaster;—
And, Rivers, so were you : — Was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain !
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
U hat you have been ere now, and what you are;
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

Q. Afar. A murd'rous villain, and so still thou art.

G/o.Poor Clarence did forsake his father War^v^ck,
Ay, and forswore himself,— Which Jesu pardon! —

g. Mar. Which God revenge!
lo- To fight on Edward's party, for the crown;
And, for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up :
I would to God, my heart were flint, like Edward's,
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine ;
I am too childish-foolish for this world.

Q.Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave
this world,
Thou cacodromon ! there thy kingdom is.

/iiv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days.
Which here you urge, to prove us enemies.
We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king;

93 KING RICHARD HI. Act 1.

So should we you, if you should be our Wng.

Glo. If I should be I had rather be a pedlar t
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof!

Q.Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
You should eiyoyj were you this country's king j
As little joy you may suppose in me.
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.

Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof j
For I am she, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient.— {^.■^dvancing.
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that tall out
In sharing that wliich you have piU'd from me ;
Which of you trembles not, that looks on me?
If not, that, 1 being queen, you bow like subjects ;
Yet that, by you denos'd, you quake like rebels
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away 1

Gh. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in
my sight t

Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd ;
That will I make, before I let thee go.

Glo. Wert thou not banished, on pain of death ?
Q.Mnr. I was; but 1 do 6nd more pain in ba-
nishment.

Than death can yield me here by my abode.
A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me, — •
And thou, a kingdom ;— all of you, allegiance :
This sorrow that I have, by right is yours ;
And all the pleasures you usurp, are mine.

Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee, —
When thou didst crown his warlike bro^v3 with
paper.

And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyeg |
And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout,
Sleep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland
His curses, then from bitterness of soul
Denounc'd against thee, are all fallen upon thee ;
And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed.

Q.Eliz. So just is God, to right the innocent.

Hast. O, 'iwas the foulest deed, to slay that babe.
And the most merciless, that e'er was heard of.

Jiiv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was re-
ported.

Dors. No man but prophesied revenge for it.
Bucfc. Northumberland, then present, wept to
see it.

Q. Mar. What ! were you snarling allj before I

Sc. 3. KING RICHARD III. 00

Ready to catch each other by the throat,
Aiid turn you all your hatred now on me?
Did York's dread curse prevail so much ■nHth heaven.
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death.
Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment,
I Could all but answer for that peevish bratf
I Can curaes piei-ce the clouds, and enter heaven ?—
Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick

i ■ curses !

Though not by war, by surfeit die your liing.
As ours by murder, to make him a kinj^ !
Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales,
For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales,
Die in his youth, by like untimely violence !
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen.
Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's loss;
And see another, as I see thee now,
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou an stall'd in mine !
Long die ihy happy days before thy death ;
And, after many lengthen'd hours of erief.
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen I—
Rivers,— and Dorset,— you ivere standers by, —
And so wast thou, lord Hastings, — when my son
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers ; God, I pray him.
That none of you may live your natural age.
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!
Gb. Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd
hag.

Q.Muf. And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou
shalt hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store.
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe.
And then burl down their indignation
Oa thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace !
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul !
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st.
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends !
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine.
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils !
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog !
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature, and the son of belli
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb I
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins 1

■100

KlXa RICHARD III.

Act 1.

Thou ras of honour! thou detested——
Olo. Mai'gai'et.
Q. Mar. Richard !

Oh. Ha t

Q. Mur. \ call thee not.

Glo. I cry thee mercy then ; for I did think.
That thou had'st call'd me all these hitter names.

Q. Mar, Why, so I did ; but look'd for no reply.
O, let me make the period to my curse,
Glo. 'Tis done by me; and ends in — Margaret.
Eliz. Thus have you bi'eath'd your curse
against your? elf.
Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my
fortune I

Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider.
Whose deadly web ensnareih thee about?
Fool, fool ! thou whett'st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad.

I/asC. False-boding woman, end thy franiick curse ;
Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience.

Q. Alar. Foul shame upon you ! you have all
mov'd mine.

JtitK Were you well serv'd, you would be taught
your duty.

Q. Mur. To serve me well, you all should do
me duty,

Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects :
O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty.

Dor. Dispute not with her, she is lunatick.

Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert:
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current :
O, that your young nobility could judge.
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable !
They that stand high, have many blasts to shake
them ;

And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.
Glo, Good counsel, marry; — learn it, learn it,
marquis.

Dor. It touches you, my lord, as much as mu.

Glo. Ay, and much more : But I was born so hiyh.
Our aieiy buildeth in the cedar's top.
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade ; — alas !
alas !—

Witness, ray son, now in the shade of death ;
Whose bright out-ahiuiag beams thy cloudy wrath

So. 3. KING RICHARD III. 101

Hatli in eternal darlciiess folded up.
Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest:— •
O God, that see'st it, do not suffer it;
As it was won with blood, lost be it so !

Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.

Q. Afar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me ;
Uncharitably with me have you dealt.
And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame, —
And in my shame still live my sorrow's raj^e !

Buck. Have done, have done.

Mar. O princely Buckingham, I Idss thy hand^
In sign of league and amity with thee :
Now fair befal thee, and thy noble house I
Thy garments ai'e not spotted with our blood.
Nor thou within the compass of mv curse.

Buck. Nor no one here ; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air .

Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky.
And there awake God's gentle- sleeping peace.

0 Buckingham, beware of yonder dog ;

Look, when he fawns, he bites ; and, when he bites.
His venom tooth will rankle to the death :
Have not to do with him, beware of him ;
Sin, death, and hell, have set their marks on him ;
And all their ministers attend on him.

Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham ?

Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.

Q. Mar, What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle
counsel ?

And sooth the devil, that 1 warn thee from?

O, but remember this another day,

When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow;

And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess.—

Live each of you the subjects to his hate.

And he to yours, and all of you to God's ! [E.vit.

Host. My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.

HiiK And so doth mine ; I muse, why she's at
liberty.

Gh. I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother ;
She hatli had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof, that I have done to her.

Q. KHz. I never did her any, to my knowledge.

GIq. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong.

1 was too hot to do some body good.
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid ;

103 KING RICHARD HI. ActT.

He is frank*d up to fatting for his pains ; —
God pardon them, that are the cause thereof!

Riv. A virtuous and a christiau-like conclusion.
To pray for them that have done scath to us.

Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd ; —
For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. \_^side.

Enter CATESBY.
Caies. Madam, his majesty doth call for you,—
And for your grace, — and you, my noble lords.
Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come : — Lords, will you go
with me ?

Riv. Madam, we will attend upon your grace.

\ Exeunt alt but O taster.

Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs, that I set abroach,
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence, — whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness,—
I do beweep to many simple gulls ;
Namely, to Stanley, HnstingSt Buckingham ;
And tell them— 'tis the queen and her allies,
That stir the l<ing against the duke my brother.
Now they believe it ; and witha) whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vau|;han, Gvey :
But then 1 sigh, and, with a piece of scripture,
Tell them — that God bids us ao good for evil :
And thus I clothe my naked villany
With old odd ends, atol'n forth of holy wrif;
And seem a saint, when moat I play the devil.

Enter two Murderers.
But soft, here come my executioners,—
How now, my hardy, stout, resolved mates?
Are you now going to despatch this thing ?

1 Murd. We are, my lord ; and coma to have
the warrant.
That we may be sidmitted where he is.

Gto. Well thought upon, I have it here about me :
[Givss the warrant.
When you have done, repair to Orosby-place.
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution.
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead ;
For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps,
Uay move ^our hearts to pity, if you mark him.
1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand ta
prate,

Talkers are uo good doers ; be assur'd.

Sc. 4. KING RICHARD III. 108

We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.

Glo. Your eyes drop millstones, when fools*
eyes drop tears :
I like yoii, lads ;— about your business straight;
Go, po, despatch.

1 Murd. We will, my noble lord. {Exeunt.

SCENE IV.
TTie same. A room in the Tower,
/Tfl/cr CLARENCE and BRAKENBURy.
Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?
Clttr. O, I have pass'd a miserable night.
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sigt^ts,
That, as I am a christian faithful man^
I would not spend another such a night.
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ;
So full of dismal terror was the time.
Brak. What was your dream, my lord I I pray

you, tell me.
Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the
Tower,

And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ;

And, in my company, my brother Gloster :

Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches ; thenae we look'd toward England,

And cited up a thousand heavy times,

During the wars of York and Lancaster

That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along

Upon the giddy footing of the hatches

Rlethought, that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling,

Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board.

Into the tumbling bill ows of the main.

O Lord ! methought, what pain it was to diown !

What dreadful noise of water in mine ears !

What sights of ugly death within mine eyes !

Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks i

A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ;

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,

Inestimal)le stones, unvalued jewels.

All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea,

Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and, in those holes

Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept

(As twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems.

That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep.

And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.

104 KING RICHARD III. Actl.

Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death.
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep T

Clar. aiethoutjhi, I liad ; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'rina; air;
But smother'd it within my pantint; hulk,
Which almost hurst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony 7

CUir. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life ;
O, then began the tempest to my soul!
I pass'd, methouf{ht, tne melancholy flood
With that Rvim ferryman which poets writ© of.
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ;
Who cry'd aloud, — IVhat scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence f
And so he vanish'd ; 'I'hen came wand'ving by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood ; and he shriek'd out aloud, —
Clarence is come,— false, ^eetine/perjur'd Clarence,—
That stabb'd me in the field by 7'ewksfmry ; —
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments .' —
With that, methought, a legion of foul flends
Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling wak'd, aud, for a season after.
Could not believe, but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.

Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you ;
I am afi-aid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. O, Biakenbury, I have done these things, —
That now give evidence against my soul, —
For Edward's sake ; and, see, how he requites me !—

0 God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee.
But thou wilt be avengM on my misdeeds.

Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :

O, spare my guiltless wife, and mypoor children !—

1 pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

Brak. I will, my lord ; God give your grace good
rest!— \^ClaTence reposes himself on a chair.
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours;
Makes the night morning, anu the noon-tide night.
Princes have but their titles for their glories,
Aj» outward honour for an inward toil ;

Sc. 4. KING RICHARD III. 105

And, for onfelt imaginations.
They often feel a world of restless cares :
So that, between their titles, and low name.
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

Enter the two Murderers.
1 Murd. Ho .' who's here ?

Brak. AVhat would'st thou, fellow? and how
cara'st thou hither 1

1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I
came hither on my legs.

Brak. What, so brief?

2 Murd. 0,8ir,'tis better to be brief than tedious:—
Let him see our commission: talk no more.

pnper is delivered to bmkenbury, who reads it.

Brnk. I am, in this, commanded to deliver
The noble duke of Clarence to your hands :—
I will not reason what is meant hereby.
Because I will be guiltless of the meaninE^.
Here are the keys ; there sits the duke asleep :
1 11 to the king; and signify to him,
J hat thus I have resignM to you my charge.

I Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom :
yo'» well. ^Es-H liraketibury.

1 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?
\ Murd. No; he'll say, 'twas done cowardly,

when he wakes.

2 Murd. When he wakes ! why, fool, he shall
never wake until the great iudgment day.

1 Murd. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd him
sleepmg.

2 Afurd. The urging of that word, judgment,
hath bred a kind of remorse in me.

1 Murd. What? art thou afraid ?
_ 2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant for
It; but to be damii'd for killing him, from the
which no warrant can defend ine.

1 Murd. I thought, thou hadst been resolute.

2 Murd. So I am, to let him live.

1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and
tell him so.

3 Murd. Nay, I pr'ythee, stay a little : I hope
this holy humour of mine will change ; it was wont
to hold me but while one would tell twenty.

1 Murd How dost thou feel thyself now ?

2 Murd. 'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience
are yet within me.

106 KING RICHARD III. Act li

1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the deed's
done.

2 Murd. Come, he dies ; I had forgot the reward.

1 Murd, Where's thy conscience now [

2 Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse.

1 Murd. So, when he opens his purse to give us
our reward, thy conscience flies out.

2 Murd. 'Tls no matter; let it go; there's few,
or none, will entertain it-

1 Murd. What, if it cnme to thee again7

2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous
thing, it makes a man a coward ; a man cannot
steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear,
but it checks him ; a man caimot lie with his
neighbour's wife, but it detects him : 'Tis a blush-
ing shame-faced spirit, titat mutinies in a man's
bosom i it fills one full of obstacles : it made me
once restore a purse of gold, that by chance I
found ; it beggars any man that keeps it : it is
turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous
thing; and every man, that means to live well,
endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it.

1 Murd. 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow,
persuading me not to kill the duke.

2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe
him not : he would insinuate with thee, but to
make thee sigh.

1 Murd. I am strong-fram'd, he cannot preyail
with me.

2 Murd. Spoke like a tall fellow, that respects
his reputation. Come, sliall we fall to work?

1 Murd Take him ovei- the costard with the hilts
of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey-
butt, in the next room.

2 Murd. O excellent device 1 and make a BOp of
him.

1 Murd. Soft! he wakes.
^Murd. Strike.

1 Murd. No, we'll reason with him.
Clar. Where art thou, keeper ? give me a cup of
wine.

I Murd. You shall have wme enough, my lord,
auon.

Clar. In God's name, what art thour

1 Murd. A man, as you are.

Clar. But not, as I am, royal.

1 Murd. Nor you, a* we are, loyal.

Sc. 4: KIx\G RICHARD III. loj

^''^hurSe''°'°' " 1><" Illy looks arc

1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, mv looks
mine own.

C!ar. Hov darkly.and how deadly dost thou speak'
your eyes C:o menace me : Why look you pale'
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come!

Both Muni. To, to, to, .

Ciftr. To murder me I

Both Murd. Ay, ay.

1 S'".'; l"""' t'lo hearts to tell me so.

And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it
Wherein, my friends, have I oftended you ?

r, , rlfl*"'' ■">'■ '•■'< the kins.

Uar, 1 shall be reconcil'd to him again
iWari. Never, mv lord; therefore prepare to die.
C/ar. Are you oalVd forth from out i world of
men.

To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
VV here IS the evidence that doth accuse me?

hat lawful quest have given their verdict up
t. mo the frowning .judge? or who prououno'd
Ihe bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death ?
Deloie I be convict by course of law,
■ • threaten me with death is most unlawful
1 charge you, as you hope for any goodness.
By Christ s dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
lhat you depart, and lay no hands on me :
i he deed you undertake is damnable

1 Murd What we will do, we do upon command.

iMurd. And he, that hath commanded, is our
kmg.

^'^so'ls 'i'ssal ! the great King of kings
Hath in the table of his law commanded,
lhat thou Shalt do no murder; Wilt thou then
Spurn at )us edict, aud fulfil a man's?
1 ake heed ; for he holds vengeance in his hand,

o 7i JP"" ^^"'^ '"■"^l' 'lis law.

i Mart/. And that same vengeance doth he hurl
on thee,

For false forswearing, and for murder too;
Ihou didst receive the sacrament, to fight
'■")"MTel of the house of Lancaster.

1 .Vni-rf. And, like a traitor to the name of God,
uiast break that vow ; and with thy treacherous
blade

tinripp'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

108 KING RICHARD III. Actl. J

2 Murd. Whom Ihou wast sworn to cherish and
defend. ji- i

1 Murd. How canst thou urge God's dreadful
law to us, , , 1 *

When thou hast broke it in such dear iejree 7

Clur. Alas ! for whose sake did I th.Vt lU deed I
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake :
He sends you not to murder me for this ;
For in that sin he is as deep as 1.
It" God will be avenged for the deed,
O, know you, that he doth it puhlickly ;
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm J
He needs no indirect nor lawless course.
To cut off those that have offended him. _ _

1 tUurd. Who made thee then a bloody minister.
When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee f

aar. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage.

\Murd. 'iTiy brother's love.ouv dnty.and thy faidl.
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not mo ■,
I am his brother, and I love hira well.
If you are hir'd for meed, go back aeain.
And I will send you to my brother Gloster ;
Who shall reward you better for my life.
Than Edward will for lidings of my death.

2 ;l/»rrf. You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster

hates you. , . , . , i

Clar. O, no ; he loves me, and he holds me dear .
Go you to him from me.
Both Murd. Ay, so we will.

Clur. Tell him, when that our princely lathei
York

Bless'd his three sons with his victonous arm,
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other.
He little thought of this divided friendship :
Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep.

1 Murd. Ay, millstones ; as he lesson'dus to weep.

Ctnr. O, do not slander him, for he is kind.

1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest.— Come, you
deceive yourself ;
'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.

Clar. It cannot be ; for he bewept my fortune.
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
That he would labour my delivery.

1 Murd Why, so he doth, when he delivers you
From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven.

Sc. 4. KING RICHARD III. 109

2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must die,
my lord.

Clar. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul.
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind.
That thou wilt war with God by murdering
me ? —

Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set you oii

To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.

2 Mard. What shall we do r

Clar. Relent, and save your soula.

I Murd. Relent I 'tis cowardly, and womanish.

Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish.—
Which of you, if you were a prince's son.
Being pent from liberty, as I am now, —
If two such murderers as yourselves came to

Jou, —
not entreat for life ? —
My friend, I spy some pity in thy loolfs;
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer.
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me.
As you would beg, were you in my distress.
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
%MuTd. Tiook behind you, my lord.

1 Alurd. Take that, and that; if all this will not

do, \_Stabs him.

I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt witliju.

\Exit, with the body,

2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately de-

spatch 'd I

How fani, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murder done !

He-enter Jirst Murderer,

1 Murd. How now ? what mean'st thou, that

thou help'st me not?
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you
have been.

2 Murd. I would he knew, that I had sav'd his

brother !

Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;

For I repent me that the duke is slain. \_Exit.

1 Murd. So do nor I ; go, coward, as thou art. —
Well, I'll go hide the body in some bole.
Till that the duke give order for his burial :
And when I have my meed, I will away ;
For this will out, and then I must not st»y. KKxit,
122

110 KING RICHARD HI. Act2.

ACT II. SCENE I.
The same. A room in the Palace.
Enter Kina EDWARD, {led in sick,) Queen ELT-
ZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS,
BUCKINGHAM, GREY, nnd Others.
K. Edw. Why, so : — ^now have I done a good
day's work j —
You peers, continue this united league :
1 every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer to redeem mc hence ;
And more in peace my soul shall part to heaven.
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.
Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand ;
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.

Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging
hate ;

And with my hand I seal mv true heart's love.
Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!
K. Edw. Take heed, you dally not before your
king ;

Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings.
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
Either of you to be the other's end.

Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love !

Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!

A'. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt in this, —
Nor your son Dorset,— Buckingham, nor you ; —
You have been factious one against the other.
Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand ;
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

Q. Eliz. There, Hastings I will never more
remember

Our former hatred, So thrive I, and mine '.
K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him,— Hastings, love

lord marquis.
Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest,
Upon my part, shall be inviolable.

Hiist And so swear I. [Embraces Dorset.

A'. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou
this league

With thy embracements to my wife's allies.
And make me happy in your unity.

Uuci: Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon vour grace, \_To the Queen.'\ but with all

duteous love
Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me

Sc.l. KING RICHARD III. Ill

Witli hate in those where I expect most love !
When I have most need to employ a friend.
And most assured that he is a friend.
Peep, hoUow, treacherous, and full of guile.
Be he unto me ! this do I beg of heaven.
When I am cold in love, to youy or yours.

[Embracing Jiivers, §-c.

K. Kdto. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here.
To make the blessed period of this peace.

^uCjC'. Andjiu good time, here comes the noble duke.

Enter GLOSTER.
Glo. Good-morrow to my sovereign Idng, and
queen ;

And, princely peers, a happy time of day!
K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the
day : —

Brother, we have done deeds of charity ;
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate.
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege.—
Among this princely heap, if any here.
By false intelligence, or wrong sui-mise.
Hold nie a foe ;

If I unwittingly, or in my rage,^

Have aught committed that is hardly borne

By any in this presence, 1 desire

To reconcile me to bis friendly peace ;

Tis death to me, to be at enmity ;

I hate it, and desire all good men's love.—

First, madam, I entreat true peace of you.

Which I will purchase with my duteous service;—

Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,

If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ; —

Of you, lord Rivers, — and lord Grey, of you,—

That all without desert have frown'd on me ;

Pukes, eavls, lords, fjentlemen; indeed, of all.

I do not know that Englishman alive,

With whom my soul is any jot at odds.

More than the infant that is bom to-night;

I thank my God for my humility.

Q. Eliz. A holyday shall this be kept hereafter :—
I would to God, all strifes were well compounded. —
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace

112 KING RICHARD IH. Act%

Glo. Why, madiim, have I ofFer'd love for this, j
To be so flouted in this royal presence ? '
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead I

{Tkey all start.
You do him injury, to scorn his corse.

K. Edw. Who knows not, he is dead ! who |
knows he is ?

Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a woild is this ! 1
Buck. Look I so pale, hard Dorset, as the rest?
Dor. Ay, my good lord ; and no man in the pre-
sence,

But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

A'. EiIk. Is Clarence dead ! the order was revers'd.

Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died.
And that a winged Mercury did bear;
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand.
That came too lag to see him buried ; —
God grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood,_
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did.
And yet go current from suspicion !

Efiter STANLEY.

Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done t

K.Edw. I pr'ythee,peace ; my soul is full ofsorrow.

Stall. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me.

K.Edw. Then say at once, what is it thourequest'st.

Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life ;
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman,
Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk.

K.Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's
death.

And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ?
My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought.
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued to me for him? who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd ?
Who spoke of brotherhood! who spoke of love t
Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake
'ITie mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he rescu'd me.
And said, Dear brother, live, and be a kiit^f
Who told me, when we both lay in the held.
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his garments ; and did give himself,
All thia and naked, to the numb-cold night ?

Sc.2. KING RICHARD III. in

All this from my remembrance brutish wrath

Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you

Had so much grace to put it in my mind.

But, when your carters, or your %vaiting-vassals.

Have done a drunken slautjhter, and defac'd

The precious image of our dear Redeemer,

You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;

And I, unjustly too, must grant it you : —

But for my brother, not a man would speak,—

Nor I (ungi-acious) speak unto myself

For him, poor souL— The proudest of you all

Have been beholden to him in his life ;

Yet none of you would once plead for his life.—

O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold

On me, and you, and mine, and ynurs, for this. —

Come, Hastings, Iielp me to my closet. O,

Poor Clarence I

[Exeunt King, Qaeen, Hastings, Rwersy
Dorset, and Orey.
Glo. This is the fruit of rashness ! — Mark'd you
not,

How that the guilty kindred of the queen
Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence* death?
O ! they did urge it still unto the king :
God will revenge it. Come, lords ; vnW you go.
To comfort Edward with our company 7
Buck. We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt,

SCENE II.
The same.

Eater the Duchess of YORK, mtk u Son and
Duughta- of Clarence,
Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead f
i>iic*. No, boy.

Dough. Why do you weep so oft ? and beat your
breast ;

And cry — O Clarence, my unhappy son/

Son . Why do you look on us, and shake your luad.

And call us— orphans, wretches, cast-aways.

If that our noble father be alive ?

Duch. Aly pretty cousins, you mistake me both ;

I do lament the sickness of the king,

As loath to lose him, not your father's deaUi :

It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost. '
5on. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead.

The king my uncle is to blame for this :

il4 KING RICHARD III. Act 2.

God will revenge it; whom I will imp6rtunB
With earnest prayers, all to that effect.

Daugh. And so will I. , , ,

Dudt. Peace, children, peace ! the king doth love
you well :
Incapable and shallow innocents,
You cannot tjuesa who caus'd your father's death.

Son. Grandam, we can : for my «ood uncle Gloster
Told me, the king, pvovok'd to*t by the queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison hmi :
And when my uncle told me so, he wept.
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek ;
Bade me rely on him, as on my father.
And he would love me dearly as his child.

Duck. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle
shapes.

And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice !
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame,
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble, grandamf

JJuch. Ay, boy.

Son. I cannot think it. Hark ! what noise is this T
Enter Oueen ^hlZXBETH. distractedly ; RIVERS,
and DORSET, /ullotcing her.
Q.Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and
weep?

To chide my fortune, and torment myself i
I'll join with black despair against my soul.
And to myself become an enemy. _
Duck. What means this scene of rude impatience r
O. Eliz. To make an act of tragick violence
Eiflvard, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead.—
Why grow the branches, when the root is gone?
Why "wither not the leaves, that want their sap?
If you will live, lament ; if die, be brief ;
That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's;

Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of perpetual rest.

Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow.

As I had title in thy noble husband !

I have bewept a worthy husband's death.

And liv'd by looking on his images :

But now, two mirrors of his princely semblanca

Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death ;

And I for comfort have but one false glass. .

That grieves me when I see my shame in him.

Sc. 2. KING RICHARD lU. 115

TTiou art a widow; yet thou art a mother.
And hast the comfort of thy children left thee :
But death hath snatchM my husband from my arms.
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause have I,
(Thine being but a moiety of my grief,)
To over-go thy plaints, and drown thy cries 7

Sin. An, aunt! youweptnotforouvfather'sdeath;
How can we aid you vnth. our kindred tears ?

Daugh. Our fatherless distress was left umnoan'd.
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!

Q. FJiz. Give me no help in lamentation,
I am not barreu to bring forth laments :
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes.
That I, being govem'd by the watry moon.
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world I
Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward !
- Ckil. Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence \

Duck. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and
Clarence !

Q.Eliz. What stay had I, bat Edward? and
he's gone.

cm. What stay had we, but Clarence T and he's
cone.

Duck. What stay had I, but they? and they are
cone.

Q. KHz. Was never widow, had so dear a loss.

CkiL Were never orphans, had so dear a loss.

Duck. Was never mother, had so dear a loss.
Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs ;
Their woes are parceU'd, mine are general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I ;
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she :
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I ;
I, for an Edward weep, so do not they : —
Alas ! you three, on me, threefold distress'd.
Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse.
And I will pamper it ivilh lamentations.

Dor, Comfort, dear mother; God is much dis-
pleas'd.

That you take with unthankfulness his doing :
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd — ungrateful,
"With dull unwillingness to repay a debt.
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;
Much more, to be thus opposite with heaven.
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.
Hiv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,

116 KING RICHARD III. Act 2.

Of the young prince your son : send straight for him.
Let him he crown'd ; in him youv comfort lives :
Dro%VTi desperate sorrow iu dead Edward's grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.

Snter GhOSTEH, BUCKTNGHAM.STANLEY,
HASTINGS, RATCLIFP, and Others.

Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star;
But none can cure their harms by wailing them. —
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy,
1 did not see your grace :— Ilumbly on my knee
I crave your blessing.

Buck. God bless thee ; and put meekness in thy
breast,

Love, charity, obedience, and true duty !

Glo. Amen ; and make me die a good old man ! — •
That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing ; ^Astde.
I marvel, that her grace did leave it out.

Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing
peers.

That bear this mutual heavy load nf moan.
Now cheer each other in each other's love :
Though we have spent our harvest of this king.
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts.
But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together.
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept:
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train.
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.

Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of
Buckingham f

Bud-. Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude.
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out ;
Which would be so much the more dangerous,
By how much the estate is green, and yet ungovern'd:
Where every horse bears his commanding rein,
And may direct his course as please himself,
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent.
In my opinion, ought to be prevented.

(rio. I hope, the king made, peace with all of us ;
And the comp&ct is firm, and true, in me.

Riv. And so in me; and so, I think, in all:
Yet, slnc« it is but green, it should be put
To no apparent likelihood of breach,
lyiuioh, b»pl7; by uaucU oompany might b« ury'd :

Sc. 3.

KING RICHARD IH.

U7

Therefore I say, with iroble Buckingham,
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.
J/ast. And so say 1.

Glo. Then be it so ; and go we to determine
Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.
Madam,— and you my mother, — will you ro
To give your censures in this weighty business?

[B^euni all but Buckingham find Gloster.

Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince.
For God's sake, let not us two stay at home : ,
For, by the way, I'll sort occasion,
As index to the story we late lalk'd of,
To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince.

Glo. My other selt, my counsel's consistory.
My oracle, my prophet !— My dear cousin,
I, as a child, will ko by thy direction.
Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind.

[Sreunt.

SCENE irr.

?'Ae Same. j1 street-
Enter two Citizens, meetittg.
1 Cit. Good morrow, neighbour : Whither awaj
so fast?

3 Cit, I promise you, I scarcely know mysaU :
Hear you tlie news abroad t

1 Cit. Yes; the king's dead.

2 Cit. Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better:
I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world.

Enter nnother Citizen.

3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed !

1 Cit. Give you good morrow, sir.
3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good king Edward's

death ?

2 Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true ; God help, the while I

3 Cit. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world.
1 Cit. No, no ; by God's good grace, his son shall

reign.

3 Cit. Woe to that land, that's govem'd by a child!

2Ct7. In him there is a hope of government ;
That, in his nonage, council under him,
And, in his full and ripen'd years, himself.
No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well.

I Cit. So stood the state, when Henry the sixth
Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months eld.

118 KING RICHARD III. Act 2.

3 at. Stood tlie state sot no, no, good friends,
God wot ;

For then this land was famously enrich'd
With politick grave counsel ; then the king
Had virtuous UBcles to protect his grace.

1 at. Why, so hath this, both by his father and
mother.

3 CU. Better it were, they all came by his father ;
Or, by his father, there were none at all :
For emulation now, who shall be nearest,
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O, full of danger is the duke of Gloster ;
And the queen's sons, and brothers, haught and
proud :

And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule.
This sickly land might solace as before.

1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst; all will

be well.

3 Cit. When clouds are seen, wise men put on
their cloaks ;
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand ;
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth :
All may be well ; but, if God sort it ao,
*Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.

2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear :
You cannot reason almost with a man

That looks not heavily, and full of dread.

3 Cii. Before the days of change, still ia it so :
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust
Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see

The water swell before a hoist'rous storm.
But leave it all to God. Whither away ?

2 CU. Marry, we were sent for to the justices.

3 Cit. And so was I; I'll bear you company.

SCENE IV.
77ie same. ^ room in the Palace.
Enter the Archbishop of YORK, the youne Duke
«/ YORK, ELIZABETH, aarf Me "iJac^css

0/ YORK.

Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony-
Stratford ;

And at Northampton they do rest to-night :
To-morrow, or next day, they will bo here. -

Sc. 4.

KING RICHARD lit.

119

Duck. I long with all my heart to see the prince;
I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him.

Q. Sliz- But I hear, no ; Ihey say, my son of York
Hath almost overta'en him in his gi-owth.

York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.

Duck. Why, my young cousin T it is good to grow.

York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper.
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
More than my brother ; -^_v, quoth my uncle G loster.
Small herbs have grace, great toecds (to grow apace :
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make
haste.

Duck. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did
not hold

In him that did obiect the same to thee :

He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young.

So long a growing, and so leisurely.

That, rt his rule were true, he should be gracious.

^rch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam.

Duch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt.

York. Now, l)y my troth, if I had been remembered,
1 could have given my uncle's grace a flout.
To touch liis growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.

Duch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me
hear it.

York. Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast.
That he coula gnaw a crust at two hours old ;
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.

Duch. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this ?

York. Grandam, nis nurse.

Duch. His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou
wast born.

York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.
Q. A parlous boy : Go to, you are too shrewd.
Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child.
Q.Sliz. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a Messenger.

Arch. Here comes a messenger:

What news?

A/ess. .Such news, my lord.

As grieves me to unfold.

Q. Eliz. How doth the prince ?

AJess. Well, madam, and in health.

Duch. What is thy news ?

KO - KING RICHARD III. Act 3.

Mess. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, are seni to
Pomfret,

With them sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners,
Duch. Who hath committed them?
Afes5. The mighty dukeSj

Gloster and Buckingham.

Q- For what offence I

Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd ;
Why, or for what, the nobles were committed.
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house 1
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind ;
lasulting tyranny begins to jut
Upon the innocent and awless throne : —
Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre !
I see, as in a map, the end of all.

Duck. Accursed and unquiet wranylinfj days !
How many of you have mine eyes beheld T
My husband lost his life to get the crown ;
And often up and down my sons were tost,
For me to joy, imd weep, their gain, and loss :
And being seated, and domestick broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors.
Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother.
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self :— O, preposterous
And frantiek outrage, end thy damned spleen ;
Or let me die. to look on death no more !

-Come.comejmy boy, we will to sanctuary. —
Madam, farewell.
Duch. Stay, I will go with you.

Q. Eliz. You have no cause.

•^fck. My gracious lady, go,

[To the Queen.
Ana thither bear your treasure and your goods.
For my part, 1*11 resign unto your grace
The seal I keep ; And so betide (o me,
Ab well I tender you, and all of yours !
Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. \_F,a'eunt.

ACT III. SCENE I.
The same. A street.
The trumpets sound. Enter the Prince of WALES.
GLOSYeR, BUCKI\GHAM,C«rrfi««/BOtJR-
CHJER, and Others.

Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to
yonr chamber.

Sc. 1. KING RICHARD III. )3|

Oh. Welcome, dear cousin, mr thoughts" sove-
reign : ' -o
The weary way hath made you melancholy.

Fnnce. tio, uncle i but our crosses on the way
Bave made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy •
I want more uncles here to welcome me.

Oh. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your
years

Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit;

Ho more can you distinguish of a m,Tn,

Than of his outward show ; which, God he knows.

Seldom, or never, jumpelh with the heart.

1 hose uncles, which you want, were danEet»us :

Your grace attended to their sugar'd words.

But look d not on the poison of their hearts ■

tiod keep you from them.and from such false friends 1

I'nnct. God keep me from false friends! but
they were none.

Gh. My lord, the mayor of London comes to
greet you.

Enter the Lord Mayor, and his Train,
i/ay. God bless your grace with health and

happy days !
Prince. I thank you, good my lord ;— and thank
you all— [Kreiint Mayor, *c.

I Ihourfit, my mother, and my brother York,
" ouW long ere this have met us on the way :—
tie, what a slug is Hastings ! that he coines not
lo tell us, whether they will come, or no.

enter HASTINGS.

Buck. And, in good time, here comes the sweating
lord. *

Prince. Welcome, my lord: What, will our
mother come I

ffflit. On what occasion, God he knows, not I,
The queen your mother, and your brother York,
Have taken sanctuaiy : The lender prince
Would fain have come with me to meet your erace.
But by his molher was perforce withheld.

Jiuck. Fie ! what an indirect and peevish course
Is this of hers? — Lord cardinal, will your grace
Persuade the queen to send the duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently ?
If she deny,— lord Hastings, go with him.
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.

122

KING RICHARD III.

Act 3.

Card, My lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory
Can from his mother win the duke of York,
Anon expect hiui here : But if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land.
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.

Buck. You are to senseless-obstinate, my lord,
Too ceremonious, and traditional :
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age.
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted
To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place,
And those who have the wit to claim the place :
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it ;
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it :
Then, taking him from thence, that is not there.
You break no privilege nor charter there.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men ;
But sanctuary children, ne'er till now.

Card. My lord, you bhall o'er-rule my mind for
once. —

Come on, lord Hastings, will you go with me f

Hast. I go, my lord.
Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste
you may. \_Exetint Cardinal and Hastings,
Say, xincle Gloster, if our brother come,
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

Glo. Where it seems best unto your loyal self.
If I may counsel you, some day, or two.
Your highness shall repose you at the Tower :
Then where you please, and shall be thought
most fit

For your best health and recreation.

Princt. I do not like the Tower, of any Dlace :
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord T

Olo. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place ;
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.

Prince. Is it upon record? or else reported
Successively from age to age, he built ill
Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord.
Prince. But say, my lord, it were not register d j
Methinks, the truth should live from age to age.
As 'twere retail d to all posterity,
Even to the general all-ending day. ^

aio. So wise so young, they say, do near live

long.

\_Aside.

Sc. I. KING RICHARD HI. 153

Prince. What say you, uncle ?

Glo. 1 say, wiihout charicters, fame lives lonn.
Thus, like the foi-mal vice. Iniquity, 1
I moralize two meanings in one word, f ^side.
..J^'i"",' ''T"" Cxsar was a femous man :

Wilh what his valour did enrich his wit.
His wit set down, to make his valour live :
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror •
For now ho lives in fame, though not in life.—
1 11 tell you what, my cousin Buckingham.

Buck. Wliat, my gracious lord !

'f ' li™ until I be a man,
I 11 win our ancient right iu France again.
Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king.

GUi. Short summers lighUy havea forward spring.

Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and Ike Cardinal.
Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the duke
of York.

Prince. Richard of York ! how fares our lovine
brother T ^
■ Yark. VVell,my dreadlord; so must I call you now.

Prince. Ay, brother ; to our grief, as it is yours:
loo late he died, that might have kept that title,
Which by his deatli hath lost much majesty.

Glo. H ow fares our cousin, noble lord of York !

iork. I thank vou, gentle uncle. O, my lord.
You said, that idle weeds are fast in growth :
The pruice my brother hath outgrow^^ me far.

Glo. He hath, my lord.

J".''*- And therefore is he idle?

irto. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so.

Then is he more beholden to you, than I.
Glo. He may command me, as my sovereign •
But you have power in me, as in a kinsman.

)or*. I pray you, uncle, then, give me this dagger.
Olo. My dagger, litile cousin! with all my heart.
Prince. A beggar, brother '.

lor*. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give •
And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give.

Glo. A greater gift than that I'U'give my cousin.

lor*. A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it.

v 'u X' S*"''' oousin, were it light enough.

York. O then, 1 see, you 'II part but with light gifts:
In weighuer things you'll say a beggar, nay.

Glo. It IS too weighty for your grace to wear.

1J4 KING RICHARD III. Act 3.

York. I weigh it li«litly. were it heavief.

Olo What.would you have my weapon.little lord .

York. I would, that I might thank you as yon

call me.
Ola. Howt

'princt. 'My'lovd of York will sUU be cross in

Uncle, your craco knows how to bear with hitn.

York. You'mean, to hear ma, not to hoar with me 1
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me ;
Because that I am little, like an ape.
He thinks th«t you should bear me on your shoulders.

Buck. With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons!
To mitigate the scorn he gives his nncle.
He prettily and aptly taunts himself;
So cunning, and so young, is wonderful.

(J/o. My gracious lord, wUl't please you pass
nlong ? n 1 ■ 1,

Myself, and my good cousin Buckingham,
Will to your mother ; to entreat of her.
To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you.
York What, will you go nnto the 1 ower, my lord!
Prince. My lord protector needs will have it so.
y'or*. I shall not sleep in (juiet at the lower.
Glo. Why, sir, what should you fear?
yor*. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost;
My grandam told me, he was murder'd there.
Prince. I fear no uncles dead.
Oh. Nor none that live, I hope.
Prince. All if they live, I hope, I need not fear.
But come, my lord, and, with a lieavy heart.
Thinking on them, go I unto the 'l ower.

XF.xeunt Prince, York, Hastings, Cardimt,
and attendants. . v ,

Back. Think you, my lord, this little praung York
Was not incensed by his subtle mother.
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobrioiisly f

Glo. No doubl, no iloubt : O, 'tis a parlous boy;
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable ;
He's all the mother's, from the top to toe.

Buck. Well, let them rest.—
Come hither, gentle Catesby ; then art sworn
As deeply to etTect what we intend.
As closely to conceal what we impart :
Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way ;—
What think'st thou ! is it not an easy matter

Sc. 1. KING RICHARD III. 125

To make William lord Hastings of our mindf
Por the instalment of ihis noble duke
In the seat royal of this famous isle ?

Cate. He for his father's sake so loves the prince.
That he ivill not l>e won to aught against him.

Buck. What tliink'st thou then of Stanley! will
not he T

Cate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth.
Buck. Well then, no more but this: Go, gentle
Catesby,

And, as it were far off, sound thou lord Hastings^

How he doth stand affected to our purpose;

And summon him to-morrow to the Tower,

To si; about the coronation.

If thou dost find him tractable to us.

Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons:

If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling.

Be thou so too ; and so break off the talk.

And give us notice of his inclination:

For we to-morrow hold divided councils.

Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd.

Olo. Commend me to lord William : tell him,
Catesby,

His ancient knot of dangerous adversaiies
To-morrow are let blooa at Pomfret-castle ;
And bid my friend, for joy of this good news,
Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more,
Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this business
soundly.

Cote. My good lords both, with all the heed 1 can.
Glo. Shall we hear from you,Catesby, ere we sleep?
■ Cate. You shall, my lord.

Glo, At Crosby-place, there shall you €nd us
both. * {E:fit Catesby.

Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we
perceive

Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots!
Gio. Chop off his head, man somewhat we
will do :—

And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me
The earldom of Hereford, and all the moveables
Whereof the king my brother was possess'd.

Buck. I'll claim that promise at your grace's hand.

G!o, And look to have it yielded with all kindness.
Come, let us sup betimes ; that afterwards
We may digest our complota in some form.

[Exeunt.

13S

KING RICHARD III. Act S.

SCENE II.

Before Lord Bastings' house.
Enter a Messenger.
Afess. My lord, my lord, — [Knocking.
Hast. \_mthin.^ Who knocks?

Mess, One from lord Stanley.

Hast. UVithin.'] What is'i o'clock ?
Mess. Upon the stroke of four.

Enter HASTINGS.
Hast. Cannot thy master sleep the tedious nights T
Mess. So it should seem by that I have to say.
First, he commends him to your noble lordship.
Hast. And then, —

Mess. And then he sends you word, he dreamt
To-night the boar had rased off his helm :
Besides, he says, there are two councils held ;
And that may he determin'd at the one.
Which may make you and him to rue at the other.
Therefore he sends to know your lordship's plea-
sure,—

If presently you will take horse with him,

And with all speed post with him toward the north,

To shun the danger that his soul divines.

Hast. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;
Bid him not fear the separated councils ;
His honour, and myself, are at the one ;
And, at the other, is my good friend Catesby ;
Where nothing can proceed, that toucheth us.
Whereof I sh^l not have intelligence.
Tell him, his fears are shallow, wauling instance :
And for his dreams — I wonder, he's so fond
To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers :
To fly the boar, before the boar pursues.
Were to incense the boar to follow us.
And make pursuit, where he did mean no chase.
Go, bid thy master rise and come to me ;
And we will both together to the Tower,
Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly.

Mess. I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you
say. [Exit.
Enter CATESBY.

Cate. Many good morrows to my noble lord !

Hast. Good morrow, Catesby ; you ate early
stirring :

Sc. 2. KING RICHARD III. 127

^\Tiat news, what news, in this our tottering slate t

Cate. It is a reeling world, indeed,-my lord •
And, I believe, will never stand upright, '
Till Richard wear the garland of tte realm.
Hast. How ! wear the garland t dost thou mean

the crown *
Cate. Ay, my good lord.

Hast, I 11 have this crown of mine cut from my
shoulders, '
Before I'll see the crown so foul misplac'd.
But canst thou guess, that he doth ami at it?
Cate. Ay, on my life; and hopes to find you
forward

Upon his party, for the pin thereof:

And, thereupon, he sends you this good news,

That, this same very day, your enemies.

The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret.

ffast. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news.
Because they have been still mv adversaries:
But, that I'll give my voice on "Richard's side.
To bar my master's heirs in true descent,
God knows, 1 will not do it, to the death.

Cate.God keep your lordship in that gracious mind!

ffnst. But I shall laugh at this a twelvemonth
hence,—

That they, who brought me in my master's hate,
I live to look upon their tragedy.
Well, Catesby, ere a forUiight make me older,
I'll send some packing, that yet think not on't.

Ca^£. 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord.
When men are unprepar'd. and look not for it,

monstrous, monstrous ! and so falls it out
With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey : and so 'twill do
With some men else, who think themselves as safe
As thou, and I ; who, as thou know'st, are dear
To princely Richard, and to Buckingham.

Cate. The princes both make high account of you,

For they account his head upon the bridt-e. [yfsiete.

Jiasi. I know they do j and I have well desevv'd it."

Rnter STANLEY.
Come on, come on, where is your hoar-spear, mail ?
Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided J

Stan. My lord, good morrow ; and good morrow,
Catesby : —
You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,
I do not lake these stveral councils, I.

12S KING RrCHARD III. Act 3.

Hast. My lord, I hold my life a3 dear as yours;
And never, in my life, I do protest.
Was it more precious to me than 'lis now :
Thinlc you, but that I know our state secure,
I would be so triumphant as I am?

Stan. The lords at Pomfret, when tliey rode
from London,
Were jocund, and suppos'd their states were sure,
And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust ;
But yet, you see, how soon the day o'er-caat.
This sudden stab of rancour I miydoubt ;
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward !
What, shall we toward the Tower ? the day is spent.

Hast. Come, come, have with you. — Wot you
what, my lord f
To-day, the lords you talk of are beheaded.

Stan. They, for their truth, might better wear
their heads.

Than some, that have aecus'd them, wear their hats.
But come, my lord, let's away.

Enter a Pursuivant.
Hast. Go on before, I'll talk with this good
fellow. i_F.aeunt Stan, and Catesby.

How now, sirrah ? how yoes the world with thee ?
Purs^ The better, that your lordship please to ask,
Hast^ I tell thee, man, 'tis better wtth me now.
Than when thou met'stmelast, where now we meet:
Then was I going prisoner to the Tower,
By the suggestion of the queen's allies ;
But now, 1 tell thee, (keep it to thyself,)
This day those enemies are put to death.
And I in better state than ere I was.

Purs. God hold it, to yo\ir honour's good content!
Hast. Gramercy, fellow : There, drink that forme.

[ Throwing him fits purse.
Purs. I thank your honour. {Sait Pursuivant.

Enter a Priest.
Priest. Well met, my lord ; I am glad to see

your honour.
Hast. I thank thee.good sirJohn,with all my heart.
1 am in your debt for your last exercise ;
Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you.
Enter BUCKINGHAM.
Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord chain*
berlaia !

Sc.3. KIXG RICHARD in. 129

Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest ;
Your honour hath no shriWng work in hand.

/^fljr. 'Good faith, and when I met this holy man.
The men you tallt'd of came into my mind.
What, vou toward the Tower?

^«ct- I do, my lord ; hut long T cannot stay there:
I shall return hafore your lordship thence.

//nst. Nay. like enough, for I stay dinner there.

BucK-. And supper too, although thou know'st it
- "o^;, , inside.

Come, will you go ?

Hast. I'll wait upon your lordship. [E.reunt.

SCENE in.

Pomfrtt. Before the CaUte.
Enter RATCLIFF, with a Guard, conducting RI-
VERS, GREY, nndWXJGH.K'S to execution.

Rat. Come, bring forth the prisoners.

Rit>. Sir Richard RaiclifF, let me tell thee this,—
To-day shall thou l>ehold a subject die.
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.

Orey. God keep the prince from all the pack of you I
A knot you lire of d. mined blood-suckers.

yaug .You live, thalshall cry woe for this hereafter.

Jiat. Despatch ; the limit of your lives is out.

Riv. O Homfret, Pomfret ! O thou bloody prison.
Fatal and ominous to noble peers !
Within the guilty closure of thy walls
Richard the second here was hack'd to death :
And, for more slander to thy dismal seat,
We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink.

Grey. Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon our
heads.

When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I,
For standing by, when Richard stabb'd her son.

Riv. Then curs'd she Hastings, then curs'd she
Buckintjham,
Then curs'd she Richard O, remember, God,
To hear her prayers for them, as now for us !
And for my sister, and her princely sons, —
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true bloods.
Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt!

Rat. iMake haste, the hour of death is expiate.

Riv, Come, Grey, — come, Vaughan, — let us here
embrace :

Farewell, until we meet again in heaven. [Exeunt.

130 KING RICHARD III. Act 3.

SCENE IV.
London. j4 room in the Tower.
BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, the
Bishop of ELY, GATES BY, LOVEL, nad
Others, titling at a table: Officers of tha council
attending.

Hast. Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met
Is — to determine of the coronation ;
In God's name, speak, when is the royal day ?

Buck. Are all things ready for that royal time?

Stan. They are; and wants hut nomination.

Ely. To-morrow then 1 iudge a happy day.

Bkc^. Who knows the lord protector's mind herein?
Who is most inward with the noble duke ?

Rly. Your grace, we think, should soonest know
his mind.

Buck. We know each other's faces: for our
hearts, —

He knows no more of mine, than I of yours ;
Nor I of his, my lord, than you of mine :
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.

Hast. I thank his grace, I know he loves me well;
But, for his purpose in the coronation,
I have not mounded him, nor he deliver'd
His gracious pleasure any way therein :
But you, my noble lord, may name the time;
And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice,
"Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part.

Enter GLOSTER.

Ely. In happy time, here comes the dulce himsflf.

Glo. My noble lords and cousins, all,good morrow :
I have been long a sleeper ; but, I trust.
My absence doth neglect no great design.
Which by my presence might have been concluded.

Buck. Had you not come upon your cue, my lord,
William lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part,—
I mean, your voice, — for crowning of the king.

Glo. Than my lord Hastings, no man might be
bolder ;

His lordship knows me well, and loves me well.— •
My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn,
I saw good strawberries in your garden there ;
I do beseech you, send for some of them.

Sly. Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart.

lE^iitEl^.

Sc. 4. KING RICHARD III. 131

<?/♦. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.

[Takes him aside.
Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business ;
And finds the testy gentleman so hot.
That he will lose his head, ere give consent.
His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it.
Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.

JBuck. Withdraw yourself awhile, I'll ^o with
you. [K^eunt Gloster and Bucktngham.

Stan.We have not yet set down this day of triumph.
To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden;
For I myself am not so well provided.
As else I would be, were the day prolong 'd.

Re-enter the Bishop of ELY.
Ely. Where is my lord protector? I have sent
For these strawberries.
ffttst. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this

morning ;

There's some conceit or other likes him well,
When he doth bid good morrow with such spirit.
I think, there's ne'er a man in Christendom,
Can lesser hide his love, or hate, than he ;
For by his face straight shall you know his heart.

Slau. What of his heart perceive you in his face.
By any likelihood he show'd to-day 1

Hast . M arry, that with no man here he is offended ;
For, were he, he had shown it in his looks.

lie-enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM.

Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve,
That do conspire my death with derilish plots
Of damned witchcraft; and that have prevail'd
Upon my body with their hellish charms I

Hast. The tender love I bear your gi'ace, my lord.
Makes me most forward in this noble presence
To doom the offenders ; Whosoe'er they be,
I say, my lord, they have deserved death.

Glo. 'I hen be your eves the witness of their evil,
Look how I am bewitch'd ; behold mine arm
Is, like a blasted sapling, withered up :
And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous wUch,
Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore,
That by their ■witchcraft thus have marked me.
Hetsi. lixhey have done this deed,my noble lord,
Glo. If! thou protector of this damned strumpet,
Talk'st thou to me of ifs ?— Thou art a trailer :—

132 KING RICHARD III. Act 3,

Off with bis head:— now, by Saint Paul I swear,
I will not dine until I see the same. —
liovel, and Catesby, look, that it be done ;
The rest, that love me, rise, and follow me.

\^Exeuni Council, with Olo. a?id Buck.

Hast. Woe, woe, for England ! not a whit for me ;
For I, too fond, might have prevented this :
Stanley did dream, the boat did rase his helm ;
But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly.
Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,
And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower,
As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.
O, now I want the priest that spake to me :
I now repent I told the pursuivant,
As too triumphing, how mine enemies
To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd.
And I myself secure in grace and favour.
O, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head.

Cate. Despatch, ray lord, the duke would be at
dinner ;

Make a short shrift, he longs to see your head.

Hnst. O momentary grace of mortal men.
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God?
Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks^
X^lves like a drunken sailor on a mast ;
Ready, with every nod, to tumble down
Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

Zow. Come,come, despatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim.

Hiist. O, bloody Richard ! — .miserable England !
I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee.
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. —
Come, lead me to the block, bear him my head ;
They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead.

SCENE V.
22< same. The Tower walls.
Enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM, in rusty
armour, marvellous ill-favoured.
Glo. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change
thy colour ?
Murder thy breath in middle of a word, —
And then again begin, and stop again.
As if thou wert distraught, ana mad with terror?

Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep Iragedian;
Speak, and look back, and pry on every side.

Sc. 5. KING RICHARD III.

133

Tremble and start at wagging of a straw.
Intending deep suspicion : ghastly loolcs
Are Rt my ser^'ice, like enforced smiles ;
And both are ready in their offices.
At any time, to grace my stratagems. ■
Bat what, is Catesby gone?

Glo. He is ; and, see, he brings the mayor along.
Enter the Lord Mayor and CATESBY.

Buck. I-et me alone to entertain him. — Lord
mayor, ,

Glo. Look to the draw-brid«e there.

Buck. Hark, hark! a drum.

GiQ. Catesby, o'crlook the walls.

Buck. Lord mayor, the reason %ve have sent for
you, ■

Glo. Look back, defend thee, here are enemies.
Buck. God and our innocence defend and guard us!
Enter LOVEL and RATCLIFF, wilA Hastings's
head.

fffo.Bepatient,they are friends; Rate! iff, and Lovel.

Lett, Here is the head of that ignoble traitor.
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings.

Oio. So dear I lov'd the man, that 1 must weep.
I took him for the plainest, harmless't creaturp,
That breath'd upon the earth a Christian ;
Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded
The history of all her secret thoughts :
So smooth he daub'd his vice ivith show of virtue.
That, his apparent open guilt omitted, —
I mean, his conversation %vith Shore's wife,—
He Uv'd from all attainder of suspect.

Buck. Well, well, he was the covert'st shclter'd
traitor

That ever lived. — Look you, my lord mayor.
Would you imagine, or almost believe,
(Were't not, that by great preservation
We live to tell it you,) the subtle traitor
This day had plotted, in the council-house.
To murder rae, and my good lord of Glosier t
May. What ! had he so?

Glo. What! think .you we are Turks, or infidels ?
Or that we would, against the form of law.
Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death ;
But that the extreme peril of the case.
The peace of England, and our persons' safety,
Eaforc'd us to this execution i

134 KING RICHARD III. Act 3.

May. Now, fair befal you ! he deserv'd his death ;
And your good graces both have well proceeded,
To warn false traitors from the like attempts.
I never look'd for better at his hands.
After he once fell in with mistress Shore.

Buck, Yet had we not determined he should die,
Until your lordship came to see his end ;
Which now the loviufj haste of these our friends.
Somewhat against our meaning, hath prevented :
Because, my lord, we would have had you heard
The traitor speak, and timorously confess
The manner and the pui-pose of Ins treasons ;
That you might well have signified the same
Unto the citizens, who, haply, may
Misconstrue us in him, and wail his death.

Alay. But, my good lord, your grace's word
shall serve,

As well as I had seen, and heard him speak :
And do not doubt, right noble princes both.
But I'll acquaint our duteous citirens
With all your just proceedings in this case.

Gh. And to that end we wish'd your lordship here.
To avoid the censures of the cai-ping world.

Buck, But since you came too late of our intent,
Yet witness what you hear we did intend :
And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell.

[Exit Lord Mayor,

Glo. Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham.
The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post :— •
There, at your meetest vantage of the time,
Infer the bastardy of Edward's children :
Tell them, how Edward put to death a citizen.
Only for saying — he would make his son
Heir to the crown; meaning, indeed his house.
Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so.
Moreover, urge his hateful luxury.
And bestial appetite in change ot lust ;
Which stretch'd unto their servants,daughters,wives,
Even where his raging eye, or savage heart.
Without control, listed to make his prey.
Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person :— •
Tell them, when that my mother went with child
Of that insatiate Edward, noble York,
My princely father, then had wars in France ;
And, by just computation of the time,
Found, that the issue was not his begot;
Which well appeared in his lineaments.

Sc. 7. KING RICHARD III. 135

Being notliinp like the noble duVe my father :
Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far oflf ;
Because, my lord, you know, my mother lives.

Buck. Doubt not, my lord ; I'll play the orator,
A* if the golden fee, for which I plead.
Were for myself: and so, lord, adieu.

Gh. If you thrive well, bnng them to Baynard'a
castle ;

Where you shall find me well accompanied.
With reverend fathers, and well-learned bislio()s.

Back. I go ; and, towards three or four o'clock.
Look for the news that the GuildhftU affords.

iE.i'it lluckingham.

Glo. Go, Lovel, with all speed to doctor Shaw, —
Go thou {To Cat.^ to friar Peoker bid them both
Meet me, within this hour, at Baynard's castle.

[Exeunt Lovel and CtU&by.
Now will I in, to take some privy order
To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight ;
And to give notice, that no manner of person
Have, any time, i-ecourse unto the princes. [Eiit.

SCENE VI.

A Street.

Enter a Scrivener.

Scriv. Here is the indictment of the good lord
Hastings ;

Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd.

That it may be to-day read o'er iu Paul's.

And mark how well the sequel hangs together:—

Eleven hours I have spent to write it over.

For yesternight by Caiesby was it sent me ;

The precedent was full as long a doing :

And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd.

Untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty.

Here's a good world the while ! — Who is so grosB,

That cannot see this palpable device I

Yet who so bold, but says — he sees it not?

Bad is the world ; and all will come to nought,

When such bad dealing must be seen in thought.

SCENE VII.
The same. Court of Baynard's Castle.
Enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM, meeting.
Glo. How now, how now 1 what say the citiiens!

136 KING RICHARD HI. Act 3.

Suck. Now by the holy mother of our Lord,
The citizens are mum, say not a word.

Olo. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's
children ?

Buck. I did ; with his contr&ct with Lady Lucy,
And his conti&ct by depuij- in France :
The insatiate greediness ot his desires, .
And his enforcement of the city wives ; ^
His tyranny for trifles ; his own bastardy, —
As being got, your father then in France ;
And his resemolance, being not like the duke.
Withal, I did infer your lineaments, —
Being the right idea of your father.
Both in youv form and nobleness of mind :
Laid open all your victories in Scotland,
Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace,
Your bounty, virtue, fair humility ;
Indeed, left nothing, fitting for your purpose,
TJntouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse.
And, when my oratory grew to an end,
I bade them, that did love their country's good.
Cry — God save Richard, England's royal king .'

GIq, And did they so?

Buck. No, so God help me, they apalte not aword;
But, like dumb statues, or breathless stones,
Star'd on each other, and look'd deadly pale.
Which, when I saw, I reprehended them ;
And ask'd the mayor, what meant this wilful silence:
His answer was, — the people were not os'd
To be spoke to, but by the recorder.
Then he was urg'd to tell my tale attain ; —
Thus saith the duke, thus Hath the duke inferr'd;
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
When he had done, some followers of mine own,
At lower end o'the hall, hurl'd up their caps.
And some ten voices cried, God save king Richard!
And thus I took the vantage of those few, —
Thanks, gentle citizens, and friends, quoth I ;
This general applause, and cheerful shout.
Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard:
And even here brake off, and came away.

Glo. What tongueless blocks were they ; Would
they not speak ?
Will not the mayor then, and his brethren, come T

Buck.Vhe mayor is here at hand; intend some fear;
Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit :
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,

Sc. 7. KING RICHARD III. 137

And stand lietween two cliurchinen, good my lord;
For ou that ground I'll make a holy descant ;
And be not easily won to our requests ;
Play the maid's part, still answernav, and take it.

Glo. I go ; And if you plead as well for them.
As I can say nay to thee for myself,
No doubt we'll bring it to a happy issue.

Buck. Go, go, up to the leads ; the lord mayor
•<"ocks. \_Exit aioster.

Enter the Lord Mayor, Mtiermm, and Citizens.
Welcome, niv lord : I dance attendance here ;
I think, the duke will not be spoke withal. —

Enter, from the Castle, CATESBY.
Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request?

Gate. He tloth entreat your grace, my noble lord'.
To visit him to-morrow, or next day:
He is within, with two right reverend fathers.
Divinely l)ent to meditation ;
And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd.
To draw him from his holy exercise.

Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke ;
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen,
In deep designs, in matter of great moment,
No less importing than our general good,
Are come to have some conference with his grace.

Cute. I'll signify so much unto him straight. \^Ei tt.

Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an
Edward !

He is not lolling on a lewd day-bedj
But on his knees at meditation ;
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans.
But meditating with two deep divines;
Not sleeping, to engross his idle body.
But pr.iying, to enrich his watchful soul :
Happy were England, would this virtuous piinoe
Take on himself the sovereignty thereof:
But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it.
May. Marry, God defend his grace should say
us nay !

Buck, I fear,he will : Here Catesby comes again;—
Re-enter CATESBY.
Now, Catesby, what says his grace?
^ Cate. He wonderstowhatend youhaveass«mbled
Such troops of dtiieus to come to him.

138 KING RICHARD III. Act 3.

His grace not being warn'd thereof before :
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.

Buck. Sorry I am, my noble cousin should
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him :
By heaven, we come to him in perfect love ;
And so once more return aud tell his ^race.

[^Kxit Caiesby,
When holy and devout religious men
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence;
So sweet is zealous contemplation.
Enter GLOSTER, in a edlerv above, between two
Bishops. CATESBY returns.
May. See, where his grace stands 'tween two
clergymen !

Buck. Two props of virtue for a christian pruice.
To stay him from the fall of vanity ;
And, see, a book of prayer in his hand ;
True ornaments to know a holy man. —
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince.
Lend favourable ear to our requests;
And pardon ua the interruption
Of thy devotion, and right christian zeal.

Olo. My lord, there needs no such apology;
I rather do beseech you pardon me.
Who, earnest in the service of my God,
Neglect the visitaUon of my friends.
But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure:

Buck. Even that.I hope,which pleaseth God above,
And all good men of this ungovem'd isle.

(?/o. I do suspect, I have done some offence.
That seems disgvacious in the city's eye;
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.
Buck. You have, my lord; Would it might
please your grace.
On our entreaties, to amend your fault!

Glo. Else, wherefore breathe lin a christian landl
Buck. Know, then, it is your fault, that you resign
The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
The scepter'd office of your ancestors.
Your slate of fortune, and your due of birth.
The lineal gloi-y of your royal house.
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock :
Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,
(Which here we waken to our country's good,)
The noble isle doth want her proper limbs ;
Har face defaced with scars oi infamy,

Sc. 7. KIXG RICHARD III.

139

Her royal stocJc graft with ignoble plants.

And almost shoulder'd in the snrallomng gulf

Of dark forgetfuliiess and deep oblivion.

Which to recure, we heartily solicit

Your gracious self to take on you the charge

And kingly government of this your land:

Not as protector, steward, substitute.

Or lowly factor for another's gain ;

But as successively, from blood to blood.

Your right of birth, your empery, your own.

For this, consorted with the citizens,

Your very worshipful and lo\-ing friends.

And by ttieir vehement instigation,

In this just suit come I to move your grace.

Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence.
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Best fitleln my degree, or your condition :
If, not to answer, — you might haply think.
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, j-ielded
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me ;
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
So season'd with your faithful love to me.
Then, on the other side, I check'd ray friends.
Therefore, — to speiik, and to avoid the first ;
And then, in speaking, not to incur the last,—
Definitively thus I answer you.
Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert,
Unmeritable, shuns your high request.
First, if all obstacles were cut away.
And that my path were even to the crown.
As the ripe revenue and due of birth ;
Yel so much is my poverty of spirit.
So mighty and so many my defects.
That I would ratlier hide me from my greatness,—
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea.
Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me ;
(.■Vnd much I need to help you, if need were ;)
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time.
Will well become the seat of majesty,
And make, no doubt, us happv by his reign.
On him I lay what you wouia lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy stars, —
Which, God defeod, that I should wring from him !

140 KING RICHARD HI. Act 3.

Buck. My lord.this argues conscience in your grace;
But the respects thereof are nice and trivial.
All circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your brother's son ;
So say Tve too, but not by Edward's wife :
For first he was contr&ct to lady Lucy,
Your mother lives a witness to his vow ;
And afterwards by substitute betroth'd
To Bona, sister to the king of France.
These both put by, a poor petitioner,
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,
A beauty-waning and distressed widow,
Even in the afternoon of her best days.
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,
SeducM the pitcn and height of all his thoughts
To base declension and loath'd bigamy:
By her, in his unlawful bed, he got
This Edward, whom our manners call— the prince.
More bitterly could I expostulate.
Save that, for reverence to some alive,

I give a sparing limit to my tongue.

Then, good my lord, take to your royal self

Tliis proffer'd benefit of dignity :

If not to bless us and the land withal,

Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry

From the corruption of abusing time.

Unto a lineal true-derived course.

May. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you.
Buck, Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer 'd love.
Cnte. O, make them ioyful, grant their lawful suit.
Glo. Alas, why would you heap those cares on mcT

1 am unfit for state and majesty

I do beseech you, take it not amiss ;

I cannot, nor I will not, yield to you.

Buck. If you refuse it,— as in love and zeal.

Loath to depose the child, your brother's son;

As well we know your tenderness of heart.

And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse.

Which we have noted in you to your kindred.

And equally, indeed, to all estates,—

Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no.

Your brother's son shall never reign our king;

But we will plant some other in the throne.

To the disgrace and downfall of your house.

And, in this resolution, here we leave you ;—

Come, ciUzens, w-e will entreat no more.

lEaeunt Buckingham and CUizens,

Sc. 1. KING RICHARD III. I4I

Colt. CM them again.sweet prioM.accept their suit-
If jrati deny them, all the laad will rue it '
«7 V,"' )•»" enforce me to a world of cares t
Well, call them again; I am not made of stone.
But penetrable to your kind entreaties,

Albeit agamst my conscience and my soul.—

Kc-enlcr BUCKINOHAM, a»d the nsl.
Cousin of Buckingham,— and sage, grave men —
Since you will buckle fortune on my back.
To bear her burden, whe'r I will, or no,
I must have patience to endure the load i
But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach.
Attend the sequel of your imposition.
Your mere ent'orceme'nt shall acquittance me
from all the impure blots and stains thereof;
[•or God he knons, and you mav partly see.
How far I am from the desire of this.
A/ffy. God bless your grace ! we see it, and will
say it.

gfc. Iu saying so, you shall but say the truth.
.Hue*. Then I salute you with this royal title,—
Long live kuig Richard, England's worthy Hug :
jIll. Amen.

£tict To-morrow may it please you to \>e crown'df
Gla, Lven when you please, since you will have
it so.

Buck. To-morrow then we will attend your grace:
And so, most joyfully, we take our leave.

ff/o. Come, let us to our holy work again : —
o „ , . \To tkc Bishops.

rarewell, good cousin ;— farewell, gentle friends.

\.ExtvuU.

ACT IV. SCENE I.
Before the Tower.
Snier, on one side, Queen ELIZABETH, Dacheis
»/ YORK, and Marquis of DORSET; on tie
M fiA'l'^?- ^«'*'» of Olosler. leading Lady
MARGARET PLANTAGENET, cLence'
young daughter.

Duch. Who meets us here!— my niece Plantagenet
Led 111 the hand of her kind aunt of Glostert
JVow, for my life, she's ivand'ring to the Tower,

On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince

Daughter, well met.

121

143 KING RICHARD III. Act 4.

^nne. God give your graces both

A happy and a joyful time of day !

Q.Eliz. A3 much to you, good sister! Whither
away T

/inne. No further than the Tower ; and, as I guess.
Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
To gratulate the gentle princes there.

Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all to-
gether :

Enter BRAKENBURY.
And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.—
Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
How doth the prince, and my young son of York r
Brak. Right well, dear madam : By your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them ;
The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary.
Q. KHz. The king ! who's that r
Brak. I mean, the lord protector.

Q.Eliz .The Lord protect him from that kingly tide!
Hath he set bounds between their love, and me?
1 am their mother : who shall bar me from them f
Duck. I am their father's mother, 1 will see them.
Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:
Then bring me to their sights ; I'll bear thy blame,
And take thy office from thee, on my peril.

Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so ;
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.

\_Exit Brakenbury.

Enter STANLEY.
Stun. Letmebut meet you, ladies, one hour hence,
And I'll salute your grace of York as mother.
And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. —
Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
[To the Duchess of Gtosttr.
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

Q.Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder!
That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news.
Anne. Despiteful tidings ! O unpleasing news .
Dor. Be of good cheer :— Mother, how fares your
grace ?

Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone,
Death and destruction dog thee at the heels ;
Thy mother's name is ominous to children :
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas.

Sc. I. KING RICHARD III. 143

And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell
Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house '
Lest thou increase the number of the dead •
And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse —
Nor mother wife, nor England's counted queen.

Stan, bull of wise care is this your counsel
madam: — '
TaVe all the swift adrantage of the hours •
You shall have letters from me to my son'
In your behalf, to meet you on the way :
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

Dui-k. O ill dispersing wind of misery !

O my accursed womb, the bed of death ■
A McVatrice hast thou hatch'd to the wo'rld,
Whose unavoided eye is murderous !

Stan . C ome, madam, come ; I in all haste was sent.

^nne. And I with all unwillingness will go

O, would to God, that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal, that must round my brow.
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain !
Anointed let me be with deadly venom ;
And die, ere men can say— God save the queen !

Q. EJiz. Go, go. poor soul, I envy not thy glory;
lo feed mv humour, wish thyself no harm.

^nne. No ! why?— When he that is my husband
now,

Came to me, as I followed Henry's corse;
When scarce the blood was well wash'd'from hi*
hands.

Which issued from my other angel husband.

And that dead saint, which then I weeping followed*

O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, '

This was my wish,— Zft thou, quoth I, accurs'd.

For making me, so young, so old a mdow /

^nd, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;

^nd be thy wife, {if any be so mad)

Afore miserable by the life of thee.

Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death /

Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again.

Even iu so short a space, my woman's heart

Grossly grew captive to his honey words.

And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse:

Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest :

For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep.

But with his timorous dreams was still awalc'd.

Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;

144 KING RICHARD III. Act 4.

And will, no doubt, shortly lie rid of me.

Q.Eliz. Poor heart, adieu ; I pity thy complaining.
Anve. No more than with my soul I mourn for
yours.

Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory !
Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that lak'st thy leave of it !
Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune
guide thee!— {To Dorset.

Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee !—
[7b Anne.

Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess
thee! {.To U- Etizabetk.

I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me !

Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,

And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.
Q. Elh. Stay yet ; look tack with me unto the
Tower.—

Pity, you ancient siones, those tender babes,
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls !
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones !
Rude ragged nurse ! old sullen play-fellow
For tender princes, use my babies well !
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.

{Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A room of state in the Palace.
flourish of 7-rumpets. RICHARD, as King upon
his throne; bCcKINGHAM, CATESBY, a
Page, and Others.

K. Rich. Stand all apart.— Cousin of Bucking-
ham,

Btick. My gracious sovereign. , . ^ l

K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by
thy advice.

And thy assistance, is king Richard seated :—
But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them ?

Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them last.

K.Kick. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,
To try if thou be current cold, indeed : —
Young Edward lives ;— Think now what I would
speak.

Buck. Say on, my loving lord.
A'.;?icA.Why,Buckingham, I say,I would he king.
Buck. Why, so you are,my thrice- renowned liege.
K.Rich. Ha! am I kingT 'Tia so ; but Edward lives.

Sc. 2. KING RICHARD III. 145

Suck. True, noble prince.

JST. Jiic^. O bitter consequence.

That Edward still should live, — true, noble prince!

Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull
Shall I be plain T I wish the bastards dead ;
And I would have it suddeijy perfonn'd.
What say'st thuu now? speak suddenly, be brief.

Buck. Your fjrace may do your pleasure.

K.Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness
freezes :

Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die 1
Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause^
dear lord.
Before I positively speak in this :
I will resolve your grace immediately. [Bait Buck.
Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip.
t- D- r T ^ Aside.

A. Rich. I will converse with iron-wittecT fools,
iOescends from his throne.
And unrespective boys ; none are for me,
'iTiat look into me with considerate eyes ; —
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.

Boy,

Page. My lord.

K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corruptincr

gold

Would tempt unto a close exploit of death t

Page. I know a discontented gentleman.
Whose humble means match not his haughty mind :
Gold were as good as twenty orators.
And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing,
A". Rich. What is his name ?
■Pf^e. His name, my lord, is — Tyrrel.

K.Rich, I partly know the man; Go, call him
hither, boy.— lEzit Page.

The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels i
Hath he so long held out with me untir'd.
And stops he now for breath ?— well, be it so.—

Enter STANJ.EY.
How now, lord Stanley? what's the news?

Know, my loving lord,
ihe marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled
To Richmond, in the parts where he abides,
xi, Come hither, Catesby: rumour it abroad.

That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick;

Ue KING RICHARD III. Act 4.

I will take order for her keeping close.
Enquire me out some mean-born gentleman.
Whom I will maj-ry straight to Clarence' daughter:—
The boy is foolish, and I fear not him. —
Look, how thou dream'st !— I say a^'ain, give out,
That Anne my queen ia sick, and like to die :
About it ; for it stands me much upon,
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me,—
[Ka-it Catesby.
I must be married to my brother's daughter.
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass:—
Murder her brothers, and then marry her !
Uncertain way of yain ! But I am in
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.—

Re-enter Page wUh TYRREL.

Is thy name — Tyrrel ?

Tyr. JamesTyrrt'l, and your most obedient subject.
K.Rich. Art thou, indeed?

Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord.

K.Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a fviend of minel
Tyr. Please you ; but I had rather kill two ene-
mies.

K.Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two daep
enemies.

Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers.
Are they, that I would nave thee deal upon :
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them.
And soon I'll rtd you from the fear of them.

K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet musick. Hark,
come hither, Tyrrel ;
Go. bv this token :— Rise, and lend thine ear:

' \_}VhispeT$.
There is no more but so :— Say, it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.

Tyr. I will despatch it straight. \ExH.

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM.
Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind
The late demand that you did sound me in.
K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to

Richmond.
Buck. I hear the news, my lord.
K.Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son;— Well,
l()ok to it.

Sc. 3. KINO RICHARD III. 147

Buck. My lord, I claim the gift,iny dae by promise.
For which your honour and your faith is pawa'd ;
The earldom of Hereford, aud the moveables,
■\Vhich you have promised I shall possess.

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife ; if she conver
Leters to Bichmond, you shall answer it.

Buck.yVh'dX says your highness to myjustrequest!

K.Rich. I do remember me, — Henry the sixth
Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king,
Wheu Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king! — perhaps

Buck. My lord,™

K.Rich. H ow chance, the propliet could not at
thai time

Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him!

Surk. My lord, your promise for the earldom,—

K. Rick. Richmond !— When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
And callMit — Rouge-mont: at which name I started;
Because a bard of Ireland told me once,
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

Buck. My lord,

K.Rich. Ay, what's o'clock?

Buck. I am thus bold

To put your prace in mind of what you promis'd me,

A". Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock?

Buck. Upon the strobe

Often.

K. Rich. Well, let it strike.
Buck> Why let it strike?

K.Rich. Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st
the stroke

Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.

Back. Why. then resolve me wbe'r you will or no.

K.Rich. Thou troublest me; I am not in the
vein. \_Ea'eunt King Richard and Train.

Buck. And is it thus 1 repays he my deep service
With such contempt? made I him king for this?
O, let me think on Hastings ; and he gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on. [ffj'iV.

SCENE III.
The same.
Enter TYRREL.
7y». The tyrannous and bloody act is done}

us

KING RICHARD III. Act 4.

The most arch deed of piteous massacre,
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do thia piece of ruthless butchery.
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept liVe two children, in their death's sad story.
O thus, quotK Dighton, lay the gentle babes, —
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one anotke'-
fVithin their nlahiiRter innocent arms:
3'heir lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Whicii, in their summer beiiutt/, kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay ;
fVhich once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind;
But, 0, the devil — there the villain stopp'd ;
When Dighton thus told on, — we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature.
That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd. —
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse.
They could not speak ; and so 1 left them both.
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

Enter King RICHARD.
And here he comes: — All health, my sovereign lord !

JC. Hich. Kind Tyrrel ! am I happy in thy news ?

Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.

A'. Rich. But didst thou see them dead t

Tyr. I did, my lord.

JC. Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel?

Tyr. The chaplain of theTower hath buried them ;
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.

A*. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after supper,.
When thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Mean time, bat think how I may do thee good.
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell, till then.

Tyr. I humbly take my leave. [^Earit.

K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I pen'dupclose;
His daughter meanly have I match 'd in marnage ;
The sons of Kdwaru sleep in Abraham's bosom.
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.
Now, for I know Ihe Bretagne Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter.
And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown.
To her go Ij a jolly thriving wooer.

St. 4. KING RICHARD III. 140

Enter CATESBY.
Cate. My lord,

K. Hick. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in
so bluntly ?

Cate. Bad news, my lord : Morton is fled to
Richmond ;

And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

A'. /itch. Ely withRichmond troables me more near
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength.
Come,— I have learn'd, that fearful commenting
la leaden servitor to dull delay ;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary :
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king !
Go, muster men : My counsel is my shield ;
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.

SCENE IV.

The same. Be/ore the Palace.

Enter Queen MARGARET.
Q. Afar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow.
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd.
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to,
And will to France ; hoping, the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee,wretched Margaret! who comes here?

Enter Queen ELIZABETH and the Duchess of
YORK.

Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes ! ab,my tender babes!
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets !
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air.
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual.
Hover about me with your airy wings.
And hear your mother s lamentation !

Q. Mar. Hover about her ; say, that right for right
Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice.
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute,—
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead ?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

160 KING RICHARD IIT. Act 4.

Q. EUz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle
lamlis,

And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
Why didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done?

Q.AIar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.

Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living
ghost,

Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by lifo
usurp'd.

Brief abstract and record of tedious days.
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,'

[_Sitting down.
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood 1
Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a
grave ,

As thou canst yield a melancholy seat ;

Then would I hide my Iwnes, not rest them here !

Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we ?

[Sitting down fiy htr.

Q. Alar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent,
Give mine the benefit of segniory,
And let ray griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society.

[Sitting doien with than.
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine : —
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him ;
1 had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him :
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him ;
Thou hadst a Kichard, till a Richard kill'd him.

Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

Q. Alar, Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard
kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes.
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;
Tliat foul defacer of God's handy-work ;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth.
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls.
Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.—
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body.
And makes her pew-fellow with others* moan !

Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes;
God witness with me, 1 have wept for thiue.

Sc. 4.

KING RICHARD III.

151

O. Mar. Bear with me ; I am hungry for revenge,
AnCl now I cloy me with beholdina it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that IdU'd my Edward;
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward ;
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward ;
And the beholders of this tragic play,
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer ;
Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls.
And send them thither : But at nand, at hand.
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end :
Earth gapes, hell bums, fiends roar, saints pray.
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence :—
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say. The dog is deaa!

Q.Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy, the time would
come.

That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch*baok'd toad.
Q. Mar, I oall'd thee then, vain flourish of my
fortune ;

1 call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen ;
The presentation of but what I was.
The nattering index of a direful pageant.
One heav'd a-hlgh, to be hurl'd down below;
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ;
A dream of what thou wast ; a garish flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot ;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now ? where be thy brothers ?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues,anu kneels,and says — God save the queen?
Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee ?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow ;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name ;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care :
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn 'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,

152 KING RICHARD III. Act 4.

And left thee but a very prey to time ;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert.
To torture tliee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place. And dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke ;
From which even here I slip my wearied head.
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife, — and queen of sad mis-
chance, —

These English woes shall'make me smile in France.

Q.Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while.
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast
the day;

Compare dead happiness with living woe ;
Think, that thy babes were fairer than they were.
And he, that slew them, fouler than he is:
Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse ;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken them
with thine !

Q. Afar. Thy woes will make them shar]!, and
pierce like mine. [Kjit Q. Margaret.

Duch. Why should calamity be full of words .'

Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes.
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries !
Let them have scope : though what they do impart
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd : go with me.
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smotlier'd.

\_Drum within,
I hear his drum, — be copious in exclaims.

Enter King RICHARD, and Ms Train, marching.

K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition?

Duch. O, she, that might have intercepted thee.
By strangling thee in her accursed womb.
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done.

Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden
crown.

Where should he branded, if that right were right,
The slaughter of the prince that ow*d that crown.
And the aire death of my poor sons, and brothers I
Tell me, thou villain- slave, where ate my children T

Sc. 4. KING RICHARD III. 153

Duci. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother

Clarence ?
And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

Q. KHz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan,

Grey 7

Duch. Where is kind Hastings?
A'. Rich. A Bouiish, trumpets !— strike alarum,
drums !

Let not the heaven^-hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed : Strike, I say. —

[Fiourish. j^larums.
Either be patient, and entreat me fair.
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duch. Art thou my son?

A'. Rich. Ay ; 1 thank God,my father, and yourself.
Duch. 'ITien patiently hear my impatience.
K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition.
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Duch. O, let me speak.

^■Rich. Do, then; but I'll not hear.

Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words.

A*. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid for thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony,

A'. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you ?

Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well.
Thou cam'st on earth to mstke the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me ;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ;
Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, Jind
furious ;

Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous;
Thy age confii-m'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody.
More mild, but yet more harmful, k-ind in hatred :
What comfortable hour canst thou name.
That ever grac'd me in thy company?

K.Rich. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour,
that call'd your grace
To breakfast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your sight.
Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.—
Strike up the drum.

Ouch. X pr'ythee, hear me speak.

AT, Rich. You speak too bitterly.

Duch. Hear me a word ;

For I shall never speak to thee again.

154 KING RICHARD III. Act 4.

K.Rich. So;

Duck. Either thou wilt die,byGod's jnst ordinance.
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ;
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish.
And never look upon thy face again.
Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse;

Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more.

Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st !

My prayers on the adverse party fipht ;

And there the little souls of Edward's children

Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,

And promise them success and victory.

Bloocfy thou art, bloody wilt be thy end ;

Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death ^t"^^"^'

Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less
spirit to curse
Abides in me ; I say amen to her. \GoiTtg.
K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word with

Q. Eliz, I have no more sons of the royal blood.
For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard,—
They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens J
And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter call 'd— Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Q.Eliz. And must she die forthis? O, let her Utc,
And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty ;
Slander myself, as false to Edward's bed;
Throw over her the veil of infamy ;
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.

K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood.

Q.Eliz. To save her life, I'll say— she is not so.

K.Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.

Q.Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers.

K.Rich. Lo.at their births good stars were opposite.

Q.Eiiz.^o,to their lives bad friends were contrary.

K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny.

Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes destiny :
My babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.

K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my
cousins.

Q.Eliz. Cousins, indeed; andby theirunclecozeno
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands B»ever lanc'd their tender hearts.

Sc. 4. KING RICHARD III.

Thy head, all indirectlj', gave direction :

No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt

Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, '

To revel in the entrails of my lambs.

But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame

My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys.

Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes •

And I, in such a desperate bay of death, '

Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft.

Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom,

A'. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise.
And dangerous success of bloody wars.
As I intend more good to you and yours.
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd !

Q.EUz. What good is cover'd with the face of
heaven,

To be discover'd, that can do me good ?
K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle
lady,

Q.Eliz Up to some scaffold, there to lose their
heads ?

^■^'ch. No, to the dignity and height of fortune,
Ihe high imperial type of this earth's glory.

Q.Eliz. Flattermy sorrows with report of it;
Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour.
Canst thou demise to any child of mine ?
J^- ^^<^^- Even all I have ; ay, and myself and all.
Will I withal endow a child of thine j
So in the Lethe of thy angry soul '
Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs,
Whieh, thou supposes!, I have done to thee.

Q.Eiiz.Be brief,lest that the process of thy kindness
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.
A". Rich. Then know, that from my soul, I love

thy daughter.
Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with

her soul,
A'. Rick. What do you think?
5. Bliz. That thou dost love my daughter, from
thy soul.

So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers ;
And, from my heart's love, 1 do thank thee for it.

K. Rich . Be not so hasty to confound my meaning :
X mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter.
And do intend to make her queen of England.

Q.Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall
be her king?

)5« KING RICHARD in. Act 4.

K. Rich. Even he, that makes her queen : Who

else should be ?
0.£fe. What, thou? ■ ,„,. . .i- ,

Even so : What think

you of it, madam ?
O Eliz. How canst thou woo her !
^ jiict. That I would learn of you.

As one heing hest acquainted with her humour.
0 Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me f
Jf' jii^ii Madam, with all my heart.

Q.Kliz. Send to her, by the man that slew her
brothers,

A cair of bleeding hearts ; thereon eiip-ave,
Edward, and York ; then, haply, will she weep :
Therefore present to her,— as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland s blood,—
A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brother s body.
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.
If this inducement move her not to love.
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ;
Tell her, thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers ; ay, and, for her sake,
Mad'st quick conveyance ivith her good aunt Anne.

A'. ^ ici. You mockme,madam j this is not the way
To win your daughter.

f) TTiere is no other way ;

Uiiess thou couldst put on some other shape.
And not be Richard that hath done all this.
K r.ich. Say, that 1 did all this for love of her.
Q. F.tix. Nay, then indeed, she cannot choose but
have thee, , , ■, ■,

Havhig bought love with such a bloody spoil.
K.Kich. "Look, what is done cannot be now
amended :
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes.
Which after-hours give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons.
To make amends. Til give it to your daughter.
It I have kiU'd the issue of your womb.
To quicken your increase, I will beget
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.
A grandam's name is litde less in love.
Than is the doting title of a mother ;
They are as children, but one step below.
Even of your mettle, of your very blood ;
Of all one pain,— save for a night of groans

Sc. 4. KING RICHARD nr. 157-

Endar'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your children were vexation to your youth.
But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
The loss, you have, is but — a son being king.
And, by that loss, your daughter is made queen.
1 cannot make you what amends I would.
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
Dorset, your son, that, with a fearful soul.
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil.
This fair alliance quickly shall call home ■
To high promotions and great dignity :
The king, that calls your beauteous daughter, — wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset — brother ;
Again shall you be mother to a king.
And all the ruins of distressful times
Repair'd with double riches of content.
What! we have many goodly days to see;
The liquid drops of tears, that you have shed".
Shall come again, transform 'd to orient pearl;
Advantaging their loan, with interest
Of ten- times- doulUe gain of happiness.
Go then, my mother, to thy daui^hter go;
Make bold her bashful years with your experience ;
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale ;
Put in her tender heart the aspiring. flame
Of golden sov'reignty ; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys :
And when this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Ruckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come.
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ;,
To whom I mil retail my conquest won,
And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar.
Q. Eliz. What were I best to say T her father's
brother

Would be her lord ? Or shall I say, her uncle T
Or, he that slew her brothers, and her uncles f
Under what title shall I woo for thee.
That God, the law, my honour, and her love.
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years T

K. Rich. Infer fairEngland's peace by this allianoe.

Q. Elix. Wliich she shall purchase with stilt
lasting war.

K. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command,

entreats.

Q.EHz. That at her hands, which the kina'^
King forbids.

125

158 KING RICHARD lit. Act 4.

K. Rich. Say.she shall be a high and mighty queen.
Q.Elit.. To wail the title, as her mother doth.
K.Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly.
Q. Eliz. But how long shall that title, ever, last I
K. Rich. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.
Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet life
last?

K.Rich. AsIongasheaven,and nature,lene;thens it.
Q. Eliz. As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it.
K. Rich. Say, I, her sov'reign, am her subjectlow.
Q, Eliz. But, she, your subject, loaths such

sov'reigDty.
K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.
Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plaiuly

told.

K. Rich. Then in plain terms tell her my loving
tale.

Q. Eliz, Plain, and not honest, is too hai'sh a style.
K. Rich. Your reasons ate too shallow and too
quiclt .

Q. Eliz . O,no,my reasons are too deep and dead; —
Too deep and dead, poor infants, iu their graves.
K.Rich, Harp not oii that siring, madam ; that
is past.

jy. Eliz. Harp on it atiU shall I, till heart-strings
break.

K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and

my cro^vn, —
Q. Elix. Profan'd, dishonoured, and the third

usUrp'd.
K. Rich. I swear.

Q. Eliz. By nothing ; for this is no oatli.

Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his holy honour ;
Thy garter, blemished, pawn'd his knightly virtue ;
Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory :
If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd,
Swear then by something, that thou hast not wroog'd.
K.Rich. Now by the world, —
Q. Eliz. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

K. Rich. My father's death, —
.Eliz. Thy life hath that dishonour'd.

. Rich. Then, by myself, —
jQ. Eliz. Thyself is self-misus'd.

K. Rich. Why then, by God,—
Q. Eliz. God's wrong is most of all.

If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him.
The unity, the king thy brother made,

Sc.4. KING RICHARD III. 159

Had not been broken, nor my brother slain.
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by hitn.
The imperial metal, circling now thy headj
Had grac'd the tender temples of my child ;
And both the princes had been breathing here.
Which now, two tender bed-fellows for dust.
Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
What canst thou swear by now ?

K.Rinh. By the time to come.

Q. Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the time o'er-
pasl ;

For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee.
ITie children live, whose parents thou hast slaugh-
ler'd,

Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age :
The parents live, whose children thou hastbutcher'd.
Old Darren plants, to wail it in their age.
Swear not by time to come ; for that thou hast
Misus'd ere us'd, by times ill-us'd o'er- past.

K.Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent!
So thrive I in my dangerous attempt
Of hostile arms 1 myself myself confound !
Heaven, and fortune, bar me happy hours !
Day, yield me not thy light ; nor, night, thy rest I
Be opposite all planets of good luck
To my proceeding, if, with pure heart's love.
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter!
In her consists my happiness, and thine ;
Without her, follows to myself, and thee.
Herself, the land, and many a christian soul.
Death, desolation, ruin, and decay:
It cannot be avoided, but by this ;
It will not he avoided, but by this.
Therefore, dear mother, (I must call you so,)
Be the attorney of my love to her.
Plead what I will be, not what I have been ;
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve:
Urge the necessity and state of times.
And be not peevish found in great designs.

Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?

A'. Tiicfi. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good.

Q, Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself?

K.Rick, Ay, if your self's remembrance wrong
yourself.

Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children..

16d KING RICHARD HI. Act 4.

A'.fliVA.Butin your daughter's womb I bury them:
"Where, in that nest of spicery^ they shall breed
Selves of themselves, to youv recomforture.

Q.Eiiz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?
A'. Rich. And be a happy mother by the deed.
Q.Etiz. I ^o. — Write to me very shortly.
And you shall understand from mne her mind.
A'. Rich. Bear her ray true love's Jciss, and so fare-

Relenting fool, and shallow, changing — woman !
How now? what news?

Enter RATCLrFF; CATESBY following.

Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast
Rideth a puissant navy ; to the shore
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
Unarm'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back :
*Tis thought, that Richmond is their admiral ;
And there they hull, expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore.

Jf. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the duke
of Norfolk: —
Ratcliff, thyself, — or Catesby ; where is he 1

Cale. Here, my good lord.

K.Rich. Catesby, fly to the duke.

Cate. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste.
A'. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither : Post to Salisbury ;
When thou com'st thiiher, — Dull unmindful villain,
[7« Calesby.

Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke ?
Cate. I'ii'st, mighty liege, tell me your highness's
pleasure.

What from your grace I shall deliver to him.
X.Rich. O, true, good Catesby; — Bid him levy
straight

The greatest strength and power he can make.

And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

Cate. I go. [Eait,
Rat. AVhat, may it please you, shall I do at
Salisbury ?

K. Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there, be-
fore I f^O ?

Rat. Your highness told me, I should post before.

Enter STANLEY,
jr. Rich. My mind ia chang'd, — Stanley, what
news with you J

well.

Eiit Q. Elizabeth.

Sc. 4,

KING RICHARD III.

161

5(^1. None good, my liege, to please you with
the hearing;
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported.

K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle I neither good nor bad !
What need'st thou ran so many miles about.
When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way?
Once more, what news \

Richmond is on the seas.
K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him!
White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there ?
Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.
K. Rich. Well, as you guess?
Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and
Morton,

He makes for England, here to claim the crown.
A'. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword un-
sway'd ?

Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd?
What heir of York is there alive, but we?
And who is England's king, but great York's heir ?
Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas ?

Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

K . Rick. Unless for that he comes to be your Hege,
You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes.
Thou wilt revolt, and fly to Iiim, I fear.

..f ran. No, mighty liege ; therefore mistrust me not.

K. Rich. Where is thy power then, to beat him
back ?

Where be thy tenants, and thy followers?
Are they not now upon the western shore.
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?
Sean. No, my good lord, my friends are in the
north.

JC. Rich. Cold friends to me : What do they in
the north,

When they should serve their sovereign in the west 7
Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty
king :

Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave,

ril muster up my friends ; and meet your grace,

v-^ u' '•v^^t time, your majesty shall please.

A. Rich. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to ioin
with Richmond :
I will not trust you, sir.

Sian. Most mighty sovereign,

I ou have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful :
I never was, apr nev$r wiil b« false.

162 KING RICHARD HI. Act 4.

K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. But, hear you,
leave behind

Your son, George Stanley : look your heart be firm,
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.

Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you.

[E^iC Stanley.

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Mygracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
As I by friends am well advtrtised,
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate.
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother.
With many more confederates, are in arms.

Enter another Messenger.

2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are

in arms ;
And every hour more competitors
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.

Enter another Messenger.
3' Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham —
K. Rich. Out on ye, owls ! nothing but songs of
death ? [He strikes him.

There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.

3 A/ess. The news I have to tell your majesty.
Is, — that, by sudden floods and fall of waters,
Buckingham's army is dispera'd and scattered;
And he himself wander'd away alone,

No man knows whither,

Ji. Rich^ O, I cry you mercy :

There is rny purse, to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
Reward to him, that brings the traitor in ?

3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my

liege.

Enter another Messenger.

4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord Marquis

Dorset,

*Ti3 said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.

But this good comfort bring I to your highness, —

The Bretagne navy is dispers'd by tempest :

Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat

Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks.

If they were his assistants, yea, or no;

Who aiiswar'd him, they came from Backingham

Sc. 5. KING RICHARD m. Ifi3

Upon his party : he, mistrusting them,
Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretague.
A". Jiick. ilarch on, march on, since we are up in
in arms ;

If not to fight with foreign enemies.

Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

Enter CATESBY.
Cate. My Hege, the duke of Buckingham is taken,
That is the best news ; That the earl of Richmond
Is with a mighty power lauded at Milford,
Is colder news, but yet they must be told.
K.Rich. Away towards Salisbury; while we
reason here,
A royal battle might he won and lost: —
Some one take order, Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury; — the rest march on with me.

{^Exeunt.

SCENE V.
A room in Lord Stanley's house.

Enttr STANLEY and Sir CHRISTOPHER

URSWICK,
Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from
me : —

That in the sty of this most bloody boar.
My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold;
If I revolt, off goes young George's head ;
The fear of that withholds my present aid.
But tell rac, where is princely Richmond now?

Chrii. At Pembroke,orat Ha'rford-west.in Wales.

Stan. What men of name resort to him?

Chris. Siv Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, sir William Stanley ;
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew ;
And many other of great fame and worth :
And towards London do they bend their course.
If by the way they be not fought withal.

Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord ; commend me
to him ;

Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
These letters will resolve him of ray mind.
Farewell. [Gives papers to Sir Christopher.

{EJ-eunt.

m J^ING RICHARD HI. Act 5.

ACT V. SCENE I.
Salisbury, yin open place.
Enter tie Sherif, and Guard, with BUCKING HAM,
led to eo'ecution.
Buck. Will not king Richard let me speak with
him ?

Sher. No, my good lord; therefore be patient.
Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children. Rivers,
Grey,

Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand corrupted foul injustice ;
If that your moody discontentecL souls
Do through the clouds behold this present hour.
Even for revenge mock my destruction ! —
This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not?
Sher. It is, my lord.

Buck. Why, then All-Souls* day is my body's
doomsday.

This is the day, which, in king Edward's time,
I wish'd might fall on nie, when I was found
False to his children, or his I'i'ife's allies :
This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted ;
This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
That high All-seer which I dallied with.
Hath turned my feigned prayer on my head,
And given in earnest what I begs'd in jest.
TTiiis doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms;
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck,—
fVhen he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with sorrow.
Remember Alargaret teas a prophetess. —
Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame ;
Wrong haUi but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

[Ei-eunt Buckingham, ^e.

SCENE 11.
Plain near Tamworth.
Enter, wUkdrum and colours, RICHMOND, OX-
FORD, Sir JAMES BLUNT, Sir WALTER
HERBERT, and Others, with Forces, marching.
Richm. Fellows in arms, and my most loving
friends.

3. KING RICHARD III. 165

r.vLus'd underneath the yolca of tyranny,
I lis far into the bowels of the land
iuive we march'd on without impedimeat;
And here receive we from our father Stanley
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.
The wretched, bloody, and usurping hoar.
That spoil'd your summer fields, and fruitful vines.
Swills your warm blood like wash, and malces his
trough

In your embowcll'd bosoms, — th\s foul swine
Lies now even in the centre of this isle,
N»ar to the town of Leicester, as we learn :
From Tamworth thither, is but one day's march.
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends.
To reap tlie harvest of perpetual peace
By this one bloody trial of sharp war.

Ox/. Every man*s conscience is a thousand swords.
To fight against that bloody homicide.

i/eri. I doubt not, but his friends will turn to ub.

Blunt. He hath no friends, but who are friends
for fear ;

Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him.
Richm. All for our vantage. 'Ihen, iu God's
name, march :
True hope is awift, and flies with swallow's wings;
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

Knfer King RICHARD, and Forces ; the Duke of
NORFOLK, Earl 0/ SURREY, and Others.
K.Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here iu Bos-

My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad !
Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.

, jr. Rich. My lord of Norfolk,

T^or. Here, most gracious liege.

K.Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks; Ha!

must we not f
A'or. We must both give and take, my loving lord.
K.Rich. Up with my tent: Here will I lie to-
night ; \Soldicrs begin io set up the King's tent.
But where, to-morrow ! — Well, all's one for that.—
Who hath descried the number of the traitors T
Aor. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.
K. Rich. Why, our battalia trebles that account :

SCENE nr.

Bosworth Field.

166

KING RICHARD III. Act 5.

Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength.

Which the7 upon the adverse faction want.

Up with the tent.— Come, noble gentlemen.

Let us survey the vantage of the ground; — ■

Call for some men of sound direction : —

Let's want no discipline, make no delay

For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Ea'eunt.

Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND,
Sir WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, and
other Lords. Some of the Soldiers pitch Richmond's
tent.

Richm. The weary sun hath made a golden set,
And, by the bright track of his fiery car.
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. —
Sir Will iani Brandon, you shall bear my standard.*—
Give me some ink and pa^er in my tent; —
I'll draw the form and model of our battle.
Limit each leader to his several charge.
And part in just proportion our small power.
My lord of Oxford,— you, sir William Brandon,—
And you, sir Walter Herbert, stay with me:
The earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment;—
Good captain Blunt, bear my good night to bim.
And by the second hour in the morning
Desire the earl to see me in my teut :—
Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me:
Where is lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know?

Blunt. Unless I have raista'en his colours much,
(Which, well I am assur'd, 1 have not done,)
His regiment lies half a mile at least
South from the mighty power of the king.

Richm. If without peril it be possible,
Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak wiUl
him.

And give him from me this most needful note.

Blunt. Upon ray life, my lord, I'll undertake it :
And so, Gnd give you quiet rest to-night !

Richm. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come,
gentlemen.

Let us consult upon to-morrow's business ;
In to my tent, the air is raw and cold.

iThey withdraw into the tent.
Enter, to his (ent. King RICHARD, NORFOLK,
RATCUFF, and CATESBY.
K.Rich. What is't o'clock r

' Sc. 3. KING RICHARD in. 167

Caie. Il's supper time, my lord ;

It's nine o'clock.

K. Rick. I will not sup to-night. —

Give me some ink and paper. —
What, it my beaver easier than it was ? —
And all my nrmour laid into my tent ?

C(tte. Itia.ray lietje; and all thingsare in readiness.

K.Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge;
Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.

jVcir, 1 go, my lord.

A'. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentla
Norfolk.

A'or. I warrant you, my lord. \_Exit.

K.Rich. Ratclift,

Rat. My lord ?

A'. Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arms

To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power
Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall
Into the blind cave of eternal night. —
Fill me a bowl of wine. — Give me a watch;—

[7b Catesby.
Saddle white Suixey for the field to-morrow. —
Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy.
Uatcliif,

R(U. My lord T

A'. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord North-
umberland ?

Rat. Thomas the earl of Surrey, and himself.
Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop,
Weut through the anny, cheering up the soldiers.

A". Rich. I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine :
I have not that alaci-ity of spirit.
Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. —
So, set it down. — Is ink and paper ready?

Hat. It is, my lord.

A'. Rich, Bid my guard watch ; leave me.

About the mid of night, come to my tent
And help to arm me. — Leave me, I say.

iking Richard retires into his teat. Exeunt
itatclifand Caiesiy.

Richmond's tent opens, and discovers him and his
Oncers, ^-c.
Enter STANLEY.
Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm I
Richm . comfort that the dark night can afford,

IGS KING RICHARD III. Act 5.

Be to thy person, noble father-in-law !
Tell me, how fares oar loving mother ?

Stan. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother,-
Who prays continually for Richmond's good:
So much for that. — The silent hours steal on.
And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
In brief, for so the season bids us be.
Prepare thy battle early in the morning ;
And pat thy fortune to the arbitrement
Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war:
I, as I may, {that which I would, I cannot,)
With best advantage will deceive the time,
And aid thee in thia doubtful shock of arms :
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Lest, being seen, thy tender brother George
Be executed in his lather's sight.
Farewell : the leisure and the fearful time
Cuts o5 the ceremonious vows of love.
And ample interchange of sweet discourse.
Which so long sundev'd friends should dwell
upon ;

God give us leisure for these rites of love !

Once more, adieu : — Be valiant, and speed well !

Richm. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment :
I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap :
Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow.
When I should mount with wintjs of victory :
Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen.

[Ea-eunt Lords, ^c. with Stanley.
O Thou ! whose captain I account myself.
Look on my forces with a gracious eye ;
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath.
That they may crush down with a heavy fall
The usurping helmets of our adversaries !
Make us thy ministers of chastisement,
That we may praise thee in thy victory !
To thee I do commend my watchful soul.
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes ;
Sleeping, and waking, O, defend me still ! \_SUtps.

The Ghost of Prince Edward, son to Henry tke

Sixth, rises between the two tents.
Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!

[ To King Richard.
Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth
At Tewksbury ; Despair therefore, and die ! —
Be cheerful, Richmond ; for the wronged souls

Sc. 3. KING RICHARD III. 169

Of butchfr'd princfs fight in thy behalf:
King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee.
rh Ghost of King Hcnrji the Sii th rises.
Giosl. When I was mortal, my anointed body

u ^ ,..,..[ ^''^ff Richard.

By thee was punched full of deadly holes :
Think on the Tower, and me ; Despair, nnd die •
Harry the sixth bids thee despair and die.—
Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror I

„ ... , , l^'" Richmond.

Hairy, that prophesy'd thou shouldst be kinc.
Doth comfort thee in thy sleep ; Lire, and Bourish !

* The Ghost of Clarence rises.
Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow !

T .V . V,:, , L''" ^'"g Richard.

I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine.
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death !
1 o-morrow in the battle think on me,
Ar^ fall thy edgeless sword ; Despair, and die '—

1 hou oftspnng of the house of Lancaster,
™ „ „ ... , [To Richmond.
1 he wronged heirs of York do pray for thee-
Good angels guard iby batUe 1 tive, and flourish 1

The Ghosts of Rivers, Grey, and I'uughun rise.

Hiv. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow,
»■ I ,. , „ ^'"t Richard.

Hirers, that died at Pomfret ! Despair, and die !

Grttf. Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair !

,. .„ ■ , ,. , C^" A'i/iy Richard.

l aug. ITinik uponV aughan ; and, with guUty fear.
Let fall thy lance ! Despair, and die !—

.„ , , , , [To King Richard.

Awake ! and think, our wrongs in Richard's
- bosom iTo Richmond.

WiU conquer him ;— awake, and win the day !

The Ghost of Hastings rises.

Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake ;
. ,. , , . , , [To King Richard:

And m a bloody battle end thy days ! '
Think on lord Ilastings ; and despair, and die !—

yuiet untroubled soul, awake, awake!
. £ , X^'o Richmond^

Ann, tight, and conquer, for fair England'* sake 1

170 KING RICHARD III. Act 5.

Tlx etosts of the tao goung Princes rise.

Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins, smother'd in the
Tower; n. v j

Let us he lead within thy hosom, Richard,
And weigh thee down to rum, shame, and death !
Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die.-

Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and waVe in joy ,
Good Lgels guard thee from the boar s annoy \
Live, and beget a happy f ■„,.;,v
Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish.

The Ghost of Queen ^nne rises.
Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne
thy wife, .
That never slept a quiet hour with thee.
Now fills thy sleep with perturbauons :
To-morrow in the battle thiiil; on me.
And fall thy edgeless sword ; Despair, and die .—
Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a

Dream of success and happy victory :■
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee.

The Ghost of Buckingham rises.
Ghost. The first was I, that help'd thee to the
crown; [To Amg Richard.

The last was I, that felt thy tyranny :
O, in the battle think on Buckingham,
And die in terror of thy guUtuiess ! . j .t .

Dream on, dream on, °^M°ody deeds and death ;
Fainting, despair; despairing yield thy breath !-
I die! for h^pe, ere ^ could lend

But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd :
God and good angels fight on Richmond s side ;
And Richard falls in height of all his pnde

(The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts
out of his dream.
K. Rich. Give me another horse,— bind up my
wounds, — , , , ,

Have mercy, Jesu !-Soft ; I did but dr«am.—
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me J—
The lights bum blue.— It is now dead midnight.
Cold fearful drops stand on ray trembling flesh.
What do I fear? myself t there's none else by ;
Richard loves Richard ; that is, I am 1.
Is there a murderer here ! No ;— Yes ; 1 am :

, So. 3. KING RICHARD III. 171

Then At,— What, from myself I Great reason:
Why T

Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself F

I love myself. Wherefore? for any good.

That I myself have done unto myself i

O, no : alas, I rather hate myself

For hatefnl deeds, committed by myself.

I am a villain : Yet I He, I am not.

Fool, of thyself speak well : — Fool, do not flatter.

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues.

And every tongue brings in a several tale.

And every tale condemns me for a villain.

Perjury, perjury, in the hiyh'st degree,

Murder, item murder, in the dir'st degree ;

All several sins, all us'd in each degree.

Throng to the bar, crying all,— Guilty ! guilty!

I shall despair.— There is no creature loves me ;

And, if I die, no soul will pity me : —

Nay, wherefore should theyf since that I myself

Find in myself no pity to myself.

Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd

Came to my tent : and every one did threat

To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.

Enter RATCLIFF.

Aflf. My lord,

K. Rich. Who's there?

Hat. Ilatcliff,mylord; 'tisl. The early vaiage cock
Hath twice done salutation to the mora •
"^'"i'^'^t"**'* "P' buckle on their armour.

A. Hich. O, Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful
dream ! —

■^TJst thinkest thou t will our friends prove all true ?
Hat. No doubt, my lord.

K.Rick. RatcHff, I fear, I fear,—

7- D-t^^' ™y lord, be not afraid of shadows.

A. /iich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-nicht
Mave struck more terror to the soul of Richard/
lhan can the substance of ten thousai>d soldiers,
Armtd m proof, and led by shallow Richmond.
Jt IS not yet near day. Come, go with me ;
Under our lents I'll play the eaves-dropper,
10 hear, if any mean to shrink from me,

[BxeuTii King Richard and Ratcliff.
Richmond mikes. Enter OXFORD and Others.

Lords, Good morrow, Richmond.

173 KING RICHARD III. Act 5.

Riohm. 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentle-
That To'iThaTe ta'en a tardy sluggard here,
ior*. How have yott slept, my lord !
Hichm. The sweetest sleep, and fairest-bodmg
dreams, ,
That ever enter'd in a drowsy heaa.
Have I since your departure had, my loms.
Methought, their souls, whose bodies R.chard mur-

Came w'my tent, and cried-On ! victory !
J promise you, my heart is very jocund
In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
How far into the morning is it, lords .
Lords. Upon the stroke of four.
Hichm. Why, then 'tis time to arm, and give
direction'.:- iHe advances to At Troops.

More than I have said, loving countrymeu.
The leisure and enforcement of the ume
Forbids to dwell on : Yet remember this,—
God, and our good cause, fight upon our side ,
The prayers of holy saints, and »""/ed souls^
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces,
Richard eicept, those, whom we «8ht a^™^
Had rather have us win, than him they foUow.
For what is he they follow ! truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide :
One lais'-d in blood, and one m blood "Wish d.
One that made mear.s to come by what he hath, .
And slaughter'd those that were the means to help

A base M stone, made precious by the toi
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set.
One that hath ever been God's enemy :
Then, if you fight against God s enemy,
God iviU, in justice, ward you as his soldiers ,
If you do sweat to put a tyrant doivn.
You sleep in peace, the tyrant bemg slam:
If you do fight against vour country s foes.
Your country's fat shall pay your pams the hire.
If Tou do fight in safeguard of your wives.
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors ,
If you do free your children from the sword.
Your children's children quit it in your age.
Then, in the name of God, and all these "ghts.
Advance your standards, draw vour wiUmg sivonll.
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt

* Sc. 3. KING RICHARD III.

173

Shall be tl«9 cold corpse on the earth's coltl face ;
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt
The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully ;
God, and Saint George ! Richmond, and victory !

Re-enter King RICHARD, RATCLTFF, ^t-

iendnnts, and Forces.
K. Rich. Wliat said Northumberland, as touch-

inff Richmond ?
Rnt. 1 liat he was never trained up in arms.
K.Rich. He said the truth: And what said

Surrey then f
^of.He smil'd and said,The better for our purpose.
A". Rich. He was i'the right ; and so, indeed, it is.

yClock strikes.
Tell the clock there.— Give me a calendar. —
Who saw the sun to-day T
Rat. Not I, my lord.

A'. Rich. Then he disdains to shine ; for, by the
lioolv,

He should have brav'd the east an hour ago :
A black day will it be to somebody. —

Ratcliff,

Ral. My lord ?

K. Rick. The sun vnW not be seen to-day ;

The sky doth frown and lour upon our army.
1 would, these dewy tears were from the ground.
Not shine to-day 1 Why, what is that to me,
More than to Richmond t for the self-same heaven.
That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him.

Enter NORFOLK.
J^'or. Arm,ann,my lord ; the foe vaunts in the field.
K.Hieh. Come, bustle, bustle ; — Caparison my
horse ; —

Call up lord Stanley, bid him bring his power •

I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain.

And thus my battle shall be ordered.

My foreward shall be drawn out all in length.

Consisting equally of horse and foot ;

Our archers shall be placed in the midst ;

John duke of Norfolk, Thomas earl of Surrey,

Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.

They thus directed, we ourself will follow

la the xadAu battle ; whose puissance on either sitj^

174 KING RICHARD III. Act 5.

Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.
This, and Saint George to boot!— What thinlt'st
thou, Norfolk?

Not. a good direction, warlike sovereign. —
This foand I on my tent this morning.

[ Giving a scroal^

K. 'Rich. Jocki/ of Norfolk, he not too bola, [Reads.

For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.
A thing devised by the enemy.—
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge :
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls ;
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devis'd at first to keep tlte strong in awe ;
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell ;
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.

What shall I say more than I have inferr'd?
Remember whom you are to cope withal ; —
A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and run-awaya,
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants.
Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth
To despei-ate ventures and assur'd destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest ;
You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous
wives.

They would restrain the one, distain the other.
And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow.
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost?
A milk-sop, one that never in his life
Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow ?
Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again;
Lash hence these over-weening rags of France,
These t'amish'd beggars, weary of their lives ;
Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit.
For want of meanSj poor rats, had hang'd them-
selves :

If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us.
And not these bastard Bretagnes ; whom our fathers
Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd.
And, on record, left them the heirs of shame.
Shall these enjoy our lands 1 lie with our wives ?
Ravish our daughters ?— Hark, I hear their drum.

\_DrUTn afar off.

Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeomen !
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head !
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood ;
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves !—

' Sc.4. KIXG RICHARD III. 175

Enter a Messejiger.

What says lord Stanley. „iii i.^ ^j, ,
Mm. My lord, he doth deny to come
A . RM. Off iustanlly with his son George's head.
;^or. Mv lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh :

After the battle let George Stanley die.

'bosom'- '''""^'"'^ '"'"'^ B'^" "''lita my
Adrance our standards, set upon our foes -
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George.
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons '
Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms. \_Exeunt.

I SCENE IV.

I ' Another pirri of the feU.

Alantms : Excursions. Enter tiORFOhK and

Forces; to him CATESBY.
Cole. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue i
rhe king enacts more wonders than a man.
Daring an opposite to every danger;
His horse is slaiu, and all on foot he fights,
Seekmg for Richmond in the throat of death -
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost !

Alarum. Enter King RICHARD.
li.Hick. Ahorse! a horse! my kingdom for a
horse !

Cote. AVithdraw, my lord, I'll help you to a
horse.

h.Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast.
And 1 will stand the hasard of the die :
I think, there be six Richmonds in the field ;
Five have I slain to-day, instead of him : —
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse !

[^Exeunt,

Bntcr Xing RICHARD RICH-
MOND ; nni tieltnt fiishiing. Retreat, and
rfoam*. Then enter ISICHMOND, STAN-
I'hy, bearing the crown, with divers other Lords,
and eorces.

Richm. God, and your arms, be prais'd, victo-
rious friends ;
The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead,
i/on. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou
acquit thee •

176 KING RICHARD HI. Act 5.

Lo, here, tins long-usurped royalty.
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I pluck'd oft", to grace thy brows withal ;
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.

Richm. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all !— .
But, tell me first, is young George Stanley living!

Stan. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester tow^l;
Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us.
Richm. What men of name are slain on either side X
Stan. John duke of Norfolk, Walter lord Ferrers,
Sir Robert Brakenbury, and sir William Brandon.

Richm. Inter their bodies as becomes their births.
Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled.
That in submission will return to us ;
And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,
We will unite the white rose and the red : —
Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity ! —
What traitor hears me, and says not, — amen?
Cngland hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood,
The father rashly slaughtered his own son.
The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire;
All this divided York and Lancaster,
Divided, i» their dire division. —
O, now, let Richmond and Eliaabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house.
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together!
And let their heirs, (God, if thy will be so,)
Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace.
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days !
Abate the edgu of traitors, gracious Lord,
That would reduce these bloody days again,
And make poor England weep in streams of blood!
Let them not live to taste this land's increase.
That would with treason wound this fair land'*
peace !

■Now civil wounds are stoppM, peaee lives again;
That she may long Uve here, God say — Amen!

\_Exeuitt.

KING HENRY VIII.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

King HENRY the Eighth.

Cardinal WOLSEY. Cardinal CAMPEIUS.

CAPUCIUS, ambassador from the emperor>

Charles V.
CRANMER, archbishop of Canterbury.
Btike of NORFOLK. bxiVe of BUCKINGHAM.
Duke of SUFFOLK. Earl of SURREY.
Lord Chamherlain. Lord Chancellor.
GARDINER, bishop of Winchester.
Bishop of LINCOLN. Lord ABERGAVENNY.

Lord SANDS.
Sir HENRY GUILDFORD. Sir THOMAS

LOVELL.

Sir ANTHONY DENNY. Sir NICHOLAS

VAUX.
Secretaries to Wolsey.
CROMWELL, servant to Wolsey.
GRIFFITH, gentleman -usher to queen Katharine.
Three other Gentlemen.
Doctor BUTTS, physician to the king.
Garter, king at arms.
Surveyor to the duke of Buckingham.
BRANDON, and a Sergeant at Arms.
Door-keeper of the council-chamber. Porter, and

his M-in.
Page to Gardiner. A Crier.

Queen KATHARINE, wife to king Henry, after-
wards divorced.

ANNE BULLEN, her maid of honour, after-
wards queen.

An old L^dy, friend to Anne Bullen.

PATIENCE, woman to queen Katharine.

Several Lords and Ladies in the dumb shows;
Women attending upon the Queen; Spirits,
which appear to her ; Scribes, Officers,
Guards, and other Attendants.

Sttne, chiefs/ in London and Westminster ;
once, at KimboUon.

Acl 1 Sc. -1.

KING HENRY VIII.

PROLOGUE.

I come no more to make you laugh ; things now».
That bear a weighty and a serious brow,
Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe.
Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow.
We now present. Those that can pity, here
May, if they think it well, let fall a tear ;
The subject will deserve it. Such as ^jive
'ITieir money out of hope they may believe.
May here find truth too. Those, that come to sea
Only a show or two, and so agree,
The play may pass; if they be. still, and willing,
I'll undertake, may see away their shilling
Richly in two short hours. Only they,
That cotno to hear a merry, bawdy play,
A noise of tarsets ; or to see a fellow
In a long motley coat, guarded with yellow,
Will l>e deceiv'il : for, i;entle hearers, know.
To rank our chosen truth with such a show
As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting
Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,
(To make that only true we now intend,)
AVill leave us never an understanding friend.
ITierefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are
known

The first and happiest hearers of the town.

Be sad, as we would make ye : Think, ye sde

The very persons of our noble story,

As they were living; think, you see them great.

And follow'd with the general throng, and sweat.

Of thousand friends ; then, in a moment, see

How soon this mightiness meets misery !

And, if you can be merry then, I'll say,

A man may weep upon bis wedding day^

180

KING HENRY VIII. Act 1.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Lonthn. ante-chamber in the Palace.

Enter, the duke of NORFOLK, at one door; nt
the other, the duke of BUCKINGHAM, and the
Lord ABERGAVENNY.

Buck. Good morrow, and well met. How have
you done.
Since last we saw in France?

Nor. T thank your grace :

Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer
Of what I saw there.

Buck. An untimely ague

Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when
Those suns of glory, those two lights of men.
Met in the vale of Arde.

Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde :

I was then present, saw them saluta on horseback;
Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung
In their embracement, as they grew together ;
Which had they, what four throu'd ones could have

weigh 'd
Such a compounded one ?

Buck. All the whole time

I was my chamber's prisoner.

Nor. Then you lost

The view of earthly glory : Men might say.
Till this time, pomp was single ; hut now married
To one above itself. Each followins; day
Became the next day's master, till the last
Made former wonders its : To-day, the French,
All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods.
Shone down the English ; and, to-morrow, they
Made Britain, India: every man, that stood,
Sho%v'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
As cherubins, all tjilt: the madams too.
Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them, that their very labour
Was to them as a painting ; now this mask
Was cry'd incomparable ; and the ensuing night
Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings.
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst.
As presence did present them ; him in eye.
Still him in praise : and, being present both,
'Twaa said, they saw but one ; and no discerner
Durst wag his tongue lu ceusure. When these suosj

Sc. 1.

KING HENRY VIU.

ISl

(For so they phrase lhem,)by their heralds challcug'd
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass ; that former fabulous
story.

Being now seen possible enough, got credit.
That Bevis was believ'd.

Buck. O, you go far.

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect
In honour honesty, ilie tract of every thiuz
Would by a (iooa discourser lose some li^,
Which action's self was tongue to. All was royaij
To tlie disposing of it nought rebell'd,
Order giive each thing view ; the office did
Distinctly his full function.

BucA: Who did guide,

I mean, who set the body and the limbs
Of this great sport together, as you guess T

A'or. One, certes, that promises no element
In such a business.

Buck. I pray you, who,'' my lord T

Nor. AH this was order'd by the good disci-etion
Of the right revei-end cardinal of York.

Buck. The devil speed him ! no man's pie is freed
From bis ambitious finger. What had he
To do in thcKe fierce vanities ? I wonder.
That Jiuch a keecb can with his very bulk
Take up the rays o'lhe beneficial sun.
And keep it from the earth.

^or. Surely, sir,

There's in him stuft' that puts him to these ends :
For, being not propp'd by ancestry, (whose grace
Chalks successors their way,) uor call'd upon
For high feats done to the crown ; neither allied
To eminent assistants, but, spider-like.
Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note.
The force of his own merit makes his way ;
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.

^'icr. I cannot tell

What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye
Pierce into that; but I can see his pride
Peep through each part of him : Whence has he that t
If not from hell, the devil is a niggard ;
Or has given all before, and he begins
A new hell in himself.

Buck. Why the devil.

Upon this French going-out, took he upoa him.

182

KING HENRY Vllf. Actl.

Without the privity o'the king, to appoint

"Who should attend on him ? He makes up the file

Of all the gentry; for the most part such

Too, whom as gi-eat a charge as little honour

He meant to lay upon: and his o^vn letter.

The honourable board of council out.

Must fetch him in he papers.

j^ber. I do know

Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
By this so sickened their estates, that never
They shall abound as formerly .

Buck. O, many

Have broke their backs with laying manors on them
For this great journey. What did this vanity,
3ut minister communication of
A most poor issue?

•Vor. Grievingly I think.

The peace between the French and us not values
The cost that did conclude it.

Buck. Every man.

After the hideoas storm that follow'd, was
A thing inspir'd ; and, not consulting, broke
Into a general prophecy, — That this tempest.
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded
The sudden breach on't.

Nor. Which is budded out ;

For France hath flaw 'd the league, and hathattach'd
Our merchants' goods at Bouvdeaux.

Aher. Is it therefore

The ambassador is silenc'd ?

Nor. Marry, is't.

Aber. A proper title of a peace ; and purchased
At a superfluous rate 1

Buck. Why, all this business

Our reverend cardinal carried.

jYor. 'Like it your grace.

The state takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you,
<Aud take it from a heart, that wishes towards you
Honour and plenteous safely,) that you read
The cardinal's malice and his potency
Together : to consider further, that
What his high hatred would effect, wants not
A minister in his power: You k-now his nature.
That he's revengeful ; and I know, his sword
Hath a sharp edge : it's long, and, it may be said,
It reaches far ; and where 'twill not extend.

Se. I. KING HENRY VIII. 1S3

TTiithcr he darts it. Bosom up my counsel, '
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock.
That I advise your shunning.

Enter Cardinal WOLSEY, (the Purse borne before
Aim,) certiiia of the Guard, and fwo Secretfiries
mlk papers. The Cardinal in his passtif^e JiAxtk
his eye on liuchingham, and Buckinehata on him,
b'HhfuU uf disdain.

H'ol. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor? hal
Where's his examination t

J •S'ccr. Hei-6, so please you.

fVol. Is he in person ready?

I Seer. Ay, please your grace.

fi'ol. Well, we shall then know more; and
Buckingham
Shall lessen this big look.

\_Exeunt JVolsey and Train.

Buck. This butcher's cur is venom-mouth 'd, and I
Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore, best
Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book
Out-worths a noble's blood.

jVor. What, are you chafd ?

Ask God for temperance ; that's the appliance only,
■ Which yonr disease requires.

Buck. I read in his looks

Matter against me ; and his eye revil'd
Me, as his abject object : at this instant
He bores me with some trick : He's gone to thekiiig;
I'll follow, and oul-stare him.

'^'<"*- Stay, my lord,

And let your reason with your choltjr question-
What 'tis you go about : To climb steep hills.
Requires slow pace at first : Anger is like
A full-hot horse ; who being allow'd his wav.
Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England
Can advise me like you : be to yourself
As you would to your friend.

Buck. ril to tlie king ;

And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
This Ipswich fellowi^ insolence ; or proclaim.
There's difference in no persons.

'Vor. Be advis'd ;

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot,
That it do singe yourself: We may outrun.
By violent swiftness, that which we ran at.
And lose by over-running. Know you not

184 KING HENRY VIU. Act 1.

The firfl, that mounts the liquor till it run o'erj
Id seeming to augment it, wastes it f Be advis'd :
I say again, there is no English soul
More stronger to direct you than yourself;
If with the sap of reason you would quench.
Or but allay, the fire of passion.

Suck, Sir,
I am thankful to you ; and I'll go along
Ky your prescription : — but this top-proud fellow,
(Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From sincere motions,) by intelligence,
And proofs as clear as founts in Jiily, when
We see each grain of gravel, I do know
To be corrupt and treasonous.

Nor. Say not, treasonous.

Buck. To the king I'll say't ; and make my
vouch as strong
As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox.
Or wolf, or both, (for he is equal revenous.
As he is subtle ; and as prone to mischief.
As able to perform it : his mind and place
Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally,)
Only to show his pomp, as well in France
As here at home, suggests the king our master
To this last costly treaty^ the interview,
Tliat swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass
Did break i'the rinsing.

Nor, 'Faith, and so it did.

Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning
cardinal

The articles o'the combination drew.

As himself plens'd ; and they were ratified.

As he cried. Thus let be: to as much end.

As give a crutch to the dead : But our count-cardinal

Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,

Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,

(Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy

To the old dam, treason,) — Charles the emperor.

Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,

(For 'twas, indeed, his colour; but he came

To whisper Wolsey,) here makes visitation:

His fears were, that the interview, betwixt

England and France, might, through their amity,

Breed him some prejudice; for from this league

Peep'd harms that menac'd him : He privily

Deals with our cardinal ; and, as I trow, —

Which I do well ; for, I am sure, the emperor

Sc.

KING HENRY VIII.

185

Paid ere be promis'd ; whereby his suit was granted,
Ere it was ask'd ; — but when the way was made.
And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd ; —
That he would please to alter the king's course,
Aud break the foresaid peace. Let the king know,
(As soon he shall by me,) that thus the cardinal
Does buy and sell his Jiouour as he pleases.

To hear this of him ; and could wish, he were
Something mistaken iu't.

^ucK - No, »iot a syllable ;

I do pronounce him in that vci-y shape,
He shall appear in proof.

Emer BRANDON ; a Serjeant at Arms btfore kirn,
and two or three of the Guard.

Bran. Your office, sergeant; execute it.

Ser. Sir,
My lord llie duke of Buckingham, and eaid
Of Hereford, Stafford, aud N'orthampion, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most sovereign king.

Buck. Lo you, my lord,

The net has fall'n upon me ; I shall perish
Under device and practice.

Bran, I am sorry

To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
The business present: Tis his highness' pleasure.
You shall to the Tower.

Buck. _ It will help me notliing, .

To plead mine innocence ; for that die is on me.
Which mikes nay wlutest part black. The will of
heaven

Be done in this and all things! — I obey.—
■ O my lord Aberga'ny, fare you well.

Bran. Nay, he must bear you company: — The
king [2"y ^ibergaven/ij/ .

Is pleas'd, you shall to the Tower, till you know
How he determines further.

■Aber- As the duke said,

The will of heaven be done, ai\d the king's pleasure
By me obey'd.

Bran. Here is a warrant from

The kind, to attach lord Montacute ; and the bodies
Of the duke's confessor, John de la Court,
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,^

I am sorry

1«6 KING HENRY VIH. Actl.

Buck.

So, so ;

These are the limbs of the plot : No more, I hope.
Bran. A monk o'the Chartreux,

Buck. My surveyor is false ; the o'er-great cardinal
Hath show'd him gold : my life is spann'd already :
I am the shadow of poor Buckintjham ;
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on,

Cornets. Enter King HENRY, Cardinal WOL-
SEY, the Lords of the Council, Sir THOMAS
LiOVELL, Officers, and Aitendants. The King
enters, leaning on the Cardinal's shoulder.
K. Hen. My life itself, and the best heart of it,
Thanks you tor this great care : \ stood i'the level
Of a full-charg'd confederacy, and Rive thanks
To you that chok'd it. — Let be call'd before us
That gentleman of Buckingham's : in person
I'll hear him his confessions justify ;
And point by point the treasons of his master
He shall again relate.

The King takes his state. The Lord" of the Council
take their several places. The Cardinal places
himself under the King's feet, on his right side.

^ noise within, crying', Room for the Queeu. Enter
the Oueen, ushered bt/ the Dukes of NORFOLK
and SUFFOLK : she kneels. The King risetk
from his state, takes her up, kisses, and placetk
her by him,

Q.Kath. Nay.we mustlonger kneel ; lamasuitor.

K. Ben. Arise,and take place by us: Half your suit
Never name to us ; you have half our power :
The other moiety, ere you ask, is given ;
Repeat your will, and take it.

Q. Kath. Thank your majesty.

That you would love yourself; and, in that love.
Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor
The dignity of your office, is the point
Of my petition.

K. Hen. Lady mine, proceed,

Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few.

Buck.
Bran.

O, Nicholas Hopkins?

He.

The council-chamber .

Sc. 2. KING HENRY VIII. Jsf

And those of true condition, that your suhiecls
Are .n Kreat grievance : there have been commissions
ient down anions them, which hath flatv'd the heart
Of ail their loyalties :— wherein, althouch.
My good lord cardinal, they Tent reproaches
Alost bitterly on you, as putter-on
Of these enactions, yet the king our master,
(Whose honour heaven shield from soil ') even h»
escapes not

Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks
Ihe sides of loyalty, and almost appears
In loud rebellion.

, -j"**- Not almost appears.

It doth appear: for, upon these laiaiions,
the clothiers all, not able to mainlain
The many to them 'longing, have put off
}?% spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,
Ijnfit for other life, compell'd by hunger
And lack of otiier means, in desperate manner
Dariijg the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
.^nd Itauger serves among them,

Wk;*"', ^ Taxation!

« herein ? and what taxation r-Mv lord cardinal,

»ou that are lilam'd for it alike with us

Know you of this taxation?

, l' "'- , , Please you, sir,

I know hut of a single part, in aught

Pertains to the state ; and front but in that file

Where others tell steps with me.

Y„^ v . "y lotd.

lou know- no more than others: but you frame
Things, that are known alike; which are not
wholesome

To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce he their acquaiutance. These exacUons,
>v hereof my sovereign would have note, they are
Most pestilent to the hearing; and, to bear them,
I he back is sacrifico to the load. They sav.
They are devis-d by you; or else you suffer
loo hard an exclamation.

A-. Hen. S,m exaction !

l-he iialure of n1 In what kind, let's know.
Is this^ exaction T

Q. Anl/i. I a„ much too venturous

I I tempting of your patience ; but am bolden'd
inder your promis'J pardon. The subjeci's grief
Comes through comniis.ioos, which compil from eack

ISS KING HENRY VIII. Actl.

The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
Without delay ; and the pretence for this
Is nam'd, your wars in France : This makes bold
mouths :

Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze

Allegiance in them ; their curses now-
Live where their prayers did ; and it's come to pass,

That tractable obedience is a slave

To each incensed will. I would, your highness

Would give it quick consideration, for

There is no primer business.

K.Hen. By my life.

This is against our pleasure.

fi-'ot. -And for me,

I have no further gone in this, than by

A single voice; and that not pass'd me, but

By learned approbation of the judges.

If I am traduc'd by tongues, which neither know

My faculties, nor person, yet will be

The chronicles of my doing, — let me say,

'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake

That virtue must go through. We must not stint

Our necessary actions, in the fear

To cope malicious censurers ; which ever.

As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow.

That is new trimm'd ; but benefit no further

Than vainly longing. What we oft do best.

By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is

Not ours, or not allow'd ; what worst, as oft.

Hitting a grosser quality, is c-vied up

For our best act. If we shall stand still, ^

In fear our motion will be mock'd or cai-p'd at.

We should taka root here where we sit, or sit

State statues only.

K. Hen. Things done well.

And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent
Of this commission? I believe, not any.
We must not rend our subjects from our laws.
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each!
A trembling contribution ! Why, we take.
From every tree, lop, bark, and part o'the timber;
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack d,
The air will drink the sap. To every countj^.
Where this is question'd, send our letters, with
Ji'ree pardon to each man that has denied

Se.2. KING HENRY VIII.

The force of this commission : Pray, look to't ■
I nut ii to your care. '

A word with you.
- . , , , {To the Secreiary.

Let there be letters writ to every shire.
Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd

commons °
Hardly conceive of me ; let it be nois'd.
That, through our intercession, this i-evoUement
Aud pardon conies : I shall anou advise you
Further in the proceeding. [E.iit iiccrcfnri/.

Enter Surivyor.
Q, Kuth. I am sorry, that the duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure.

A . Hen. It grieves many :

I he gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker
To nature none more hound ; his training such, '
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers.
And never seek for aid out of himself.
Yet see.

When these so noble benefits shall prove
Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt,
rhey turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly
Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,
« ho was enroU'd 'raongst wonders, and when wc,
Almost with ravish'd lisl'ning, could not find
His hour of speech a minute ; he, my lady.
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces,
T!iat once were his, and is become as black
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us ; you shall hear,
CThis was his gentleman in trust,) of him
Things to strike honour sad.— Bid him recount
The fore-recited practices; whereof
We cannot feal too little, hear too much.

fVol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate
what you.

Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the duke of Buckiugham.

^- Speak freely.

burv. I'nst, it was usual with him, every day
It would infect his speech. That if the king
Should without issue die, he'd carry it so
To make the sceptre his : These very words
I have heard liim utter to his son-in-law.
Lord Aberga'ny; to whom by oath he menac'd
Kevenge upon the cardinal.

12B

190

KING HENRY VIII. Actl.

fjTol, Please your highness, note,

This dangerous conception in this jioiut.
Not friended by his wish, to your high person
His will is most malignant ; and it stretches
Beyond yon, to your friends.

Q. Katk. My learn 'd lord cardmal.

Deliver all* -with charity.

K.Hen. Speak on:

How grounded he his title to the crown.
Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him
At any time speak aught?

Surv. brought to this

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
Hen. What was that Hopkins ?

Surv. ^*^) ^ Chartreux friar.

His confessor ; who fed him every minute
With words of sovereignty.

Hen. How know'st thou this :

Siirv. Not long before your highness sped to
France,

The duke being at the Rose, within the parish
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech amongst the Londoners
Concerning the French journey : I replied.
Men fear'd, the French would prove perfidious.
To the king's danger. Presently the duke
Said, 'Twas the fear, indeed ; and that he doubted,
'Twould prove the verity of certain words
Spoke by a holy monk; that oft, says he,
Hath sent to vie, wishing me to permit
John de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of some moment:
ff-'hom after under the confession's seal
He solemnly had sioorn, that, what he spoke.
My chaplain to no creature living, but
To me, should utter, with demure confidence
This pausingly ensu'd,^Xeither the hing,nor h'.s heirs,
{Tell you the duke,) shall prosper: bid him strive
To gain the love of the commonalty ; the duke
Shall govern England.

Q.Kath. If I know you well.

You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o'the tenants : Take good heed.
You charge not in your spleen a noble person.
And spoil your nobler soul ! I say, take heed ;
Yes, heartily beseech you.

K. Hen. ' Let him on :—

Sc. 2. KING HENRY VIII. m

Go forward.

Sure. On my sool. 111 speak but tnith.

I told my lord the duke. By the devil's illusions
This moiilc might be deceiv'd ; and that 'twas

aaiig'rous for him.
To ruminate on this so far, until
It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd.
It was much like to do: He ansiver'd, 7'usk.'
^rJ^'"^ meyto damage: adding further.
That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd.
The cardinaTs and sir Thomas Lovell's heads
ahould have gone oif.

h'.Hen. Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha!

There's mischief in this man: Canst thou say

further*

Surv. I can, my liege.

K.Hen. Proceed.

K^'^' , . . ^^^^K Greenwich,

After your highness had reprov'd the duke
About sir William Blomer, —

h.J/en. I remember

Of such a time : — Being my sworn servant.
The duke retain'd him his. But on ; What hence'

Surv. //, quoth he, I/or this had been committed,
to the lower, I thmight.— I would hm-e pUtv'd
The part, my father meant to act upon
The usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in his presence ; which, if granted,
■/4s he made semblance of his duty, would
Hare put his knife into him.—

K.Hen. A giant traitor!

fi ol. Now, madam, may his highness live in
freedom,
And this man out of prison ?

J3- God mend all!

K.Hen. There's something more would out of
thee ; What say'stT
^wri). After— Me duke his father, -~.v^\\h. the knffe,~~
He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger.
Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes,
H« did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenyur '
Was,— Were he evil us'd, he would out-go
His faiher, by as much as a perfoi-mauce
Does an irresolute purpose.

A'. Hen. There's his period.

To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd;
Call him to present trial : if he may

W2 KING HENRY VIII. Act 1.

Find mercy in the law, 'tis his ; if none,
Let him not scek't of us : By day and night.
He's traitor to the height. \E2eunt.

SCENE HI.
^ room in the Palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord SANDS.
Cham. Is it possible, the spells of France should

Men into such strange myatenes I

Sands. 'H&vf customs.

Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd.

Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English
Have got by the late voyage, is but merely
A fit or two o'the face ; but they are shrewd ones ;
For, when they hold them, you would swear directly.
Their veiT' noses had been counsellors
To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so.

Sanas. They have all new leys, and lame ones ;
one would take it,
That never saw them pace before, the spavin,
A springhalt reign'd among them.

Chum. Death ! my lord.

Their clothes are after .such a pagan cnt too,
That, sure, they have worn out Christendom. How
now ?

AVhat news, sir Thomas Lovell T

Enter Sir THOMAS LOVELL.
Ijij,, > 'Faith, my lord,

1 hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clapn'd upon the court-gate.

Cham. What is't for?

Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants.
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
Cham. I am glad, 'tis there ; now I would pray
our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise.
And never see the Louvre.

Lov. They must either

(For so run the conditions! leave these remnants
Of fool, and feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ipnorance.
Pertaining thereunto, (as fights, and fiieworks ;
Abusing better men than they can be,

Sc.3. KING HENRY VIII. 193

Out of a foreign wisdom,) renouncing clean

The faith th^y have in tennis, and tall stockintjs.

Short blis(er'd breeches, and those types of travel.

And understand again like honest men ;

Or pack to their old playfellows : there, I take it.

They may, cutn priviUgio, wear axvay

The Iflii end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.

Sonds. 'Tis time to give them physick, their
diseases
Are gi'own so catching.

Chnm. AVhat a loss our ladies

Will have of these trim vanides !

Ay, marry.

There will be woe indeed, lords; the sly whoresons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies ;
A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow.

Sands. The devil iiddle them ! I am glad, they're
going ;

(For, sure, there's no converting of them ;) now
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plain-song.
And h.ive an hour of hearing ; ana, by'r-lady.
Held current musick too.

Cham. AVell said, lord Sands ;

. Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.

Sands. No, ray lord ;

Nor shall not, while I have a stump.

Chavi. Sir Thomas,

Whither were you a going?

Lov, To the cardinal's \

Your lordship is a guest too.

Cltam. O, 'tis true :

This night he makes a supper, and a great one.
To many lords and ladies ; there will be
The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.

Lov. Tliat churchman bears a bounteous mind
indeed,

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ;
His dews fall every where.

Cfinm. No doubt, he's noble ;

He had a black mouth, that said other of him.

Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal;
in him

Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine :
Men of his way should be most liberal.
They are set here for examplas.

Cmoi. True, they are so;

X94 KING HENRY VIII. Act 1.

But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;
Your lordship shall along : — Come, good sir Thomas,
We shall be late elae ; which I would not be.
For I was spoke to, with sir Henry Guildford,
This night to be comptrollers.

Sfinds. I am your lordship's. [Easani.

SCENE IV.

The presence-chamber in York-place.
Hautboys. A small titble under a state for the Car-
dinal, a lotietr table for the Guests. Enter at one
rfoor ANNE BULliEN, anddivers Lords, Ladies,
and Gentlewomen, an Guests ; at another door, enter
Sir HENRY GUILDFORD.
Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace
Salutes you all : This night he dedicates
To fair content, and you ; none here, he hopes.
In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
One care abroad ; he would have all as merry
As first-good company, good wine, good welcome
Can make good people •—O, my lord, you are tardy;

Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord SANDS, and Sir
THOMAS LOVELL.
The very thought of this fair company
Clapp'd wings on me.

Cham. You are young, sir Harry Guildford.

Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet ere they rested,
I think, would better please them : By my life.
They are a Siveet society of fair ones.

Lov. O, that your lordship were but now confessor
To one or two of these !

Sands. I would, I were ;

They should find easy penance.

Lov. 'Faith, how easy?

Sands, As easy as a down-bed would afford it.

Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit ? Sir
Harry,

Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this:
His grace is entering,— Nay, you must not freeze ;
Two women plac'd together makes cold weather
My lord Sand.s, you are one will keep them waking j
Pray, sit between these ladies.
Sands. By my faith.

Sc. 4. KING HENRY VIII. 195

And thank your lordship. — By your leave, sweet
ladies :

[Seats himself between ^nae Bui/en end
another Lady.
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
I had it from my father.
j4nne. Was he mad, sir?

Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too :
But he would hite none ; just as I do now.
He would kiss you twenty will» a breath.

[Kisses her.

Cham. Well said, my lord. —

So now you are fairly seated: — Gentlemen,
The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
Pass away frowning.

Sands. For my little cure.

Let me alone.

Htmtboys. Enter Cardinal WOLSEY, attended;
and takes his state.

ff^oi. You are welcome, my fair guests; that
noble ladv.
Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
Is not my friend ; This, to confirm my welcome ;
And to you all good health. [Dn'n&t.

Sands. Your f^race is" noble :— ■

Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks.
And save me so much talking.

fP'ol. My lord Sands,

I am beholden to you: cheer your neighbours.—
Ladies, you are not merry ; — Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this/

Sands. The red wine first must rise

In their fair cheeks.my lord ; then we shall have them
Talk us to silence.

Anne. You are a merry gamester.

My lord Sands.

Sands. Yes, if I make my play.

Here's to your ladyship : and pledge it, madam.
For 'tis to Huch a thing, —

Anne. You cannot show me.

Sands. 1 told your grace, they would talk anon.

[Drums and trumpets within: chambers
discharged.

IVot. What's that?

Cham. Look out there, some of you.

[EMt a Servant*

196 KING HENRY VIH. Act I.

JVol. What warlike voice ?

And to whrat end is this ? — Nay, ladies, fear not ;
By all the laws of war you are privileg'd.

Re-enter Servant.
Cham. How now? what is't ?
Serv. A noble troop of strangers ;

For so they seem : they have left their barge, and
landed ;

And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.

fyiA. Good lord chamberlain,

Go, give them welcome, you can speak the French
tongue ;

And, pray, receive them nohly, and conduct them.
Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
Shall shine at full upon them : — Some attend him

\_Ea.'it Chumherlnin, aliended. Alt arise, and
tables retttot'ed.
You have now a broken; banquet ; but we'll mend it.
A good digestion to you all : and. once more,
I shower a welcome on you ; — Welcome all.

Hautboys. Eater the King, and twelve Others, aj
Maskers, habited like Shepherds, with si.i tten Torch-
bearers ; ushered by the Lard Chamberlain. They
pass directlj/ before the Cardinal, and gracefully
salute him.

A noble company ! What are their pleasures t
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they
pray'd

To tell your grace ; — That, ha'^ing heard by fame

Of this so noble and so fair assembly

This night to meet here, they could do no less.

Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,

But leave their flocks ; and, under your fair conduct ,

Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat

An hour of revels with them.

/Vol. Say, lord chamberlain.

They have done my poor house grace; for which I
pay them

A thousand thanks, and pray them take their plea-
sures.

[Ladies chosen for the dance. The King
chooses Anne liullen.
K. Hen . The fairest-hand 1 ever touch 'd ! 0,beaiity,
Till now I never knew thee. [^Musick. Dance.

Sc. 4. KING HENRY VIU.

jrol. My lord,

Ckam. Yoor grace?

WW. Pray, tell them thus much from me :

There should be out: amongst them, by his person.
More worthy this place than m}'self; to whom,
If I but knew him, with my love and duty
I would surrender it.

Chain. I will, my lord.

[CAtim. goes to the c-jmpany, and returns.

fi ol. What s;iy they ?

C/iam. Such a one, they all confess.

There is, indeed ; which thcy would have your grace
Find out, and he will take it.

/f^ol. Let me see then. —

[Comes from his slate.
B/allyour good leaves, gentlemen;— Here I'll make
My royal choice.

A'. Hen. Vou have found him, cardinal :

[L'»masfring.
You hold a fair assembly ; you do well, lord :
You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardiual,
I should judge now unhappily,

/fo/. ' I am glad,

Your grace is grown so pleasant.

A'. lien. My lord chamberlain,

Pr'ythee, come hither: What fair lady's that?

Cham. Aii't please your grace, sir Thomas BuUen's
daughter,

The viscount Rocliford , one of her highness' women.
A'. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one. — Sweet-
heart,

I were unmannerly, to lake you out.

And not to kiss you. — A health, gentlemen.

Let it go round.

K'qI. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready
I'llie privy chamber?

Lov. Yes, my lord.

H'ol. Your grace,

I fear, with dancing is a little heated.

K. Hen. I fear, too much.

H'ol, There's fresher air, my lord.

In the ni'xl chamber.

A'. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one. — Sweet
partner,

I must not yet forsake you : — Let's be merry ; —
Good my lo'ixt cardinal, I have half a dozen healthfi
To drink to these fair ladies^ and a measure

198 KING HENRY VIH. Act 2.

To lead them once again; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour. — Let the musick knock it.

{^Eaaint, with trumpets.

ACT II. SCENE I.
A street.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. Whither away so fast ?

2 Gent. O, — God save you !
Even to the hall, to hear what shall become

Of the great duke of Buckingham.

1 Gent. I'll save you

That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.

1 Gent. Were you there ?

1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.

2 Gent. Pray, speak, what has happen'd!

1 Gent. You may guess quietly what.

2 Gent. Is he found guilty!

1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon it.

2 Gtnt. I am sorry for't.

1 Gent. So are a number more.

2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?

1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke
Came to the bar j where, to his accusations.

He pleaded still, not guilty, and alleg'd

Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.

The king's attorney, on the contrary,

Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions

Of divers witnesses ; which the duke desir'd

To him brought, viva voce, to his face :

At which appear'd against him, his surveyor ;

Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor ; and John Court,

Confessor to him ; with that devil-monk,

Hopkins, that made this mischief.

2 Gent. That was he.
That fed him with his prophecies?

1 Gent. The same.
AH these accus'd him strongly; which he fain
Would have flung from him, but, indeed, be could

not:

And so his peers, upon this evidence.
Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly, for life ; but all
Was either pitied in him, or fori^otten.

2 Gent, .\fter all this, how did he bear himself?

Sc. 1. KING HENRV VIII. 199

1 Otnt. When he was brought again to the bar, —

to hfar

His knell rung our, his judgment, — he was stirr'J
With such au agouv, he sweat extremely.
And something spOKe in choler, ill, and hastjr :
But he lell to himself again, and, sweetly.
In all the rest show'J a moat noble patience.

2 Gent. I do not think, he fears death.

1 Gent. Sure, he does not»
He never was so womanish ; the cause

He may a little grieve at.

2 Gent. Certainly,
The cardinal is the end of this.

1 Gent. 'Tis likely.
By all conjectures: First, Kildare's attainder.
Then deputy of Ireland ; who remov'd,

Earl Surrt'y was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.

2 Gent. That trick of state
Was a deep envious one.

1 Gent. At his return,

No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted.
And generally ; whoever the king favours.
The cardinal instantly will find employment.
And far enough from coQrt too.

2 Genl. All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and, o'my conscience.
Wish him ten fathom deep : this duke as much
They love and dote on ; call him, bounteous Buck-
ingham,

The mirror of all courtesy; —

1 Gent. Stay there, sir.

And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

i Enter BUCKING HAM/row his arraignment; Tip.

stat^ before him ; the axe uith the^ed^e townrds
I Aim; haiberds on each side: with him, 'Sir THO-
I MAS NOVELL, Sir NICHOLAS VAUX, Sir
I WILLIAM SANDS, and common people.

, 2 Geat. Let's stand close, and behold him.
^uck. AU good people.

You that thus far have come to pity me,
, Hear what I say, and then go home and lose mc.

I have this day i-eceiv'd a traitor's judgment,
I And by that name must die; Yet, heaven bear
I witness,

And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me.

200 KING HENRY VIII. Act 2.

Even as the a^ce falls, if I be not faithful '
The law I bear no malice for my death.
It has done, upon the premises, but justice ;
But those, that sought it, I could wish more Chris-
tians :

Be what they will, I heartily forgive them :
Yet let them look they glory not in mischief.
Nor build their evils oti the graves of great men ;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against thera.
For further lite in this world t ne'er hope.
Nor will [ sue, although the king have mercies
More than I dare make faults. You few, that
lov'd me,

And dare be bold to weep for Bucldngham,

His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave

Is only bitter to him, only dying.

Go with me, like good angels, to my end ;

And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,

Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice.

And lift my soul to heaven. — Lead on, o'God'sname.

Lqv, I do beseech your grace, for charity.
If ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.

Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you.
As I would be forgiven : 1 forgive all ;
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst rae,T can't take peace with : no black envy
Shall make my grave. — Commend me to his grace;
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him.
You, met him half in heaven : my vows and prayers
Yet are the king's ; and, till my soul forsake me.
Shall cry for blessings on him : May he live
Longer than I liave time to tell his years !
Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be !
And when old time shall lead him to his end.
Goodness and he fill up one monument !

Lov- To the water side I must conduct your grace ;
Then give my charge up to sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who undertakes you to your end.

p'aux'. Prepare there,

The duke is coming : see, the barge be ready ;
And fit it with such furniture, as suits
The greatness of his person.

Buck. Nay, sir Nicholas,

Let it alone ; my state now will but mock me.
When T came hither, I was lord high constable
And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun:

Se.l. KING HENRY VIII. 201

Yet I am richer than my base accusers,

That never knew what truth meant : I now seal it •

And with that blood will make them one day

groan for't.
My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,

ho first raiii'd head against usurping Kichard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distvess'd, was by that wretch bctray'd,
And without trial fell ; God's peace be with liim !
]Jenry the seventh succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loRs, like a most royal prince, '
Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
Made my name once mora noble. Now his son,
Henry the eighth, life, honour, name, and all.
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
For ever from the world. I had my trial.
And , must needs eay, a noble one ; which makes me
A little happier than my wretched father :
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes, — Both
Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most ;
A most unnatural and faithless service !
Heaven has an end in all : Yet, you that hear me.
This from a dying man receive as certain :
Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels,
lU sure, you be not loose; for those you make

friends,

And give your hearts to, when they once perceiva

The least rub in your fortunes, fall away

I>ike water from ye, never found again '

But whero they mean to sink ye. All good people.

Pray for me ! I must now forsake ve ; the last hour

Of my long weary life is come upon me.

Farewell :

And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell — I have done; and God for-
give me. [Kxeufit Buckingham and Train.

1 Gent. O, this is full of pity!— Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads.

That were the authors.

2 Gent. If the duke be guiltless,
Tis lull of woe : yel I can give you inkling

Of an ensuing evil, if it fall.
Greater than this.

1 Gent, Good angels keep it from us !

What may it be ? You do not doubt my faith, sir »

3 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill requirt
A strong faith to conceal it.

m KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

1 Gent. Let me have it ;
I do not talk much.

2 Gent. I am confident;

You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing, of a separation
Betiveen the king and Katharine?

1 Gent. Yes, but it held not:
For when the king once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the lord mayor, straight

To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues.
That aurst disperse it.

2 Gent. Bat that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now : for it yrows again
Fresher than e'er it was ; and held for certain,
The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal.
Or some about him near, have, out of malice

To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple.
That will undo her : To confirm this too.
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately;
As all think, tor this business.

1 Gent. 'Tis the cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor.

For not bestowing on him, at his asking.

The archbishoprick of Toledo, this is purpos'd. _

2 Gent. I think, you have hit the mark : But is t

not cruel,

That she should feel the smart of this ? The cardinal
Will have his will, and she must fall.

1 Gent. 'Tis woful.

We are too open here to argue this ;
Let's think in private more. lExeunt,
SCENE II.
ante-ckamber the Palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a tetter.

Cham. My lord,— The horses your lordship sent
for, with all the care J had, I saw well chosen, ridden,
and furnish'd. They were young, and handsome;
and of the best breed in the north, fi^'hen they irere
ready to set out for London, a man of my lord cardi-
nal's, by commission, and tnain power, took 'em from
me; with this reason,— His master would be served
before a subject, if not before the king : which stopped
our mouths, sir.

I fear, he will, indeed : Well, let him have them(
He will have all, I think.

Sc 2. KING HENRY VIIF. 503

Sxler Ike Dukes o/NORFOLK md SUFFOLK.

Lord Aaml«rl.i„. •°5' S<""i

?'Tii ■ 1 ,9°°'' 'o both your graces,
in/. How IS the king employ'd I

F,mrfkd thoughts and trouMei.'"''
rZ.. I. . What's the cause T

wife ' "amage with his brother's

Hm crept too near his conscience.

u . No, his conscience

Has crept too near another lady

Tv'°-'.i. ,. 'Tissoj
This IS the cardinal's doing, the king- cardinal :
That bl.nd nriest, We the eldest son of fortune.
Turns M-hat he lis,. n,e king will know him one day.
S«/. Pray God, he do he'll uerer know himself
else.

.Vor. How holily he works in all his business !
And with what leal ! For. now he has crack'd the
lea|;ue

Between us and the emperor, the queen's neat

nephew, ■*
He dives into the king's soul ; and there scatters
Uangers, doubts, »iinging of the conscience,
fears, and despairs, and all these for his marriage •
And, out of all these to restore the king,
He counsels a divorce ; a loss of her.
That, like a .jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
Of her, that loves him «-ith that excellence,
I hat angels love good men with : ev«n of her
w'^i'i.T'""' stroke of fortune falls,

n 111 bless the king : And is not this course pious?
canm. Heaven keep me from such counsel ! 'Tis
most true,

them* ""^ ' '^""^

And evei7 true heart weeps for't: All, that dare

Look into these affairs, see this main eiid,—

1 he I' reuch king's sister. Heaven will one day open

TK- K ^° 1°"S have slept upon

Inis bold bad man. ^

^^{1 w t. J A"*^ ^'0™ h's slavery.

<>«r. VV e had need pray.

204 KING HENRY VIII. Act 2.

And heartily, for ouv deliverance ;

Or this imperious man will work us all

Frem princes into pages : all men's honours

Lie in one lump before him, to he fashion d

Into what pitch he please. ^^^^^

I loTe' him not, nor tear him ; there's my creed :

As I am made without him, so 1'" ?»"''.

K the kine please ; his curses and his blessings

Touch me^Hkc, they are breath 1 "»« l-*']^-"'

1 knew him, and I know h.m ; so I leave him

To him, that made him proud, the pope. ,^ ^

And"with some other business, put the king
From Aese sad thoughts, that work too much upon

him : — ,
My lord, you-ll hear us company I ^^^^^^ _

Th^S'.- hath sent me otherwhere ; besides,
You'll fl'''4 a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to youv^o»

Lord Chamberlim.

NORFOLK opens n folding-door. The King is
dlcovertd iMing/and reading ,,ens,vely^
Suf How sad he looks ! sure, he is much afflicted.

K, mn. Who is

K hen. Who's there j'l say. How dare y«
thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations T

''^"v",^" 'l^acfous king, that pardons all offences
Ma»cenV'e?meant : our breach of duty, this way,
fs business of estate ; in which, we come
To know your royal pleasure.
Go wTT'U make ye know yot.r times of businesi,
Is this an hour for temporal aSairs! ha?-
Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.
AVho's there! my good lord cardinal ?-0 n,

Wolsey, , ,

The nniet of my wounded conscience,
^ULrrra-cuiifi. for a H»S.-Vou're welcome.

Sc. 3.

KING HENRY VIH.

205

Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom ;
Use UB, and it:— My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker. [ 7o H'o/sey.

H'ol. Sir, you cannot.

I would, your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.

h.Hen. We are busy; go.

[ To Xor/olk and Sufolk.

Xor. This priost has no pride in him ? >

Su/. Not to speak of; /

I would not be so sick though.for his place : (
But this cannot continue. ^ Aside.

Nor. If it do, (

111 venture one heave at him. \

Suf. I another. J

{Exeunt Norfolk and SufbU-.

ff 'ot. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom
Above all princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom :
Who can be angry now ? what envy reach you T
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her.
Must now confess, if they have any goodness.
The trial just and noble. All the cleiks,
1 mean, the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms,
Have their free voices ; Rome, thenui-seof judgment.
Invited by vour noi)le self, hath sent
One {general tongue unto us, this good man.
This just and learned priest, cardinal Camneius ;
Whom, once more, 1 present unto your highness,

A'. J/en. And once more, in mine arms I bid him
welcome,

And thank the holy conclave for their loves ;
They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd
for.

Cam. Your gi-ace must needs deserve all strangers'
loves,

You are so noble : To your highness' hand
1 tender my commission ; by whose virtue,
(The court of Rome commanding,) — you, my lord
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant.
In the unpBrtial judging of this business.
K.Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be
acquainted

Forthwith, for what you come : — Wliere's Gardiuerf
fVol. I know, your majesty has always lov'd her
So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law.

m

306 KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

Scholars, allowed freely to argue for her.

K.Hen. Ay, and the best, she shall- have; and
my favour

To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal,
Pr*ythec, c^l Gardiner to me, my new secretary ;
I find him a fit fellow. [Exit If'olsey.

Re-enter WOLSEY with GARDINER.
H'vl. Give me your hand : much joy and favour
to you ;
You are the king's now.

Gard. But to be commanded

Yor ever by your grace, whose hand hath rais'd m^.

K.Hen. Come hither, Gardiner.

[7"Aej/ converse apart.

Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor Pace
In this man's place before him ?

//-'o/. Yes, he was.

Cam. Was he net held a learned man ?

IVol. Yes, surely.

Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then
Even of yourself, lord cardinal.

fVol. How! of me?

Cam. They wiU not stick to say, you envied him ;
And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
Kept him a foreign man still : which so griev'dhim,
That he ran mad, and died.

JVol. Heaven's peace be with hinif

That's Christian care enough : for livintj murmurers,
There's places of rebuke. He was a fool;
For he would needs be virtuous : That good fellow,
If I command him, follows my appointment ;
I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be giip'd by meaner persons.

K.Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the queen.

Gnrdintr.

The most convenient place that I can think of.
For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars ;
There ye shall meet about this weighty business :—
My Woleey, see it furnish'd. — O my lord,
"Would it not grieve an able man, to leave
So sweet a bedfellow ? But, conscience, conscience,—
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.

[Exeunt.

Sc. 3.

KING HENRY VIH.

207

SCENE III.
antt-chnmber in the Queen's apartments.
Enter ANNE BULLEN and an old Lady.

^nne. Nm for that neither ; — Here's the pang
that pinches :
His highness having liv'd so long with her ; and she
So good a lady, that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her, — by my life,
She never knew harm-doing; — O now, after
So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
Still growing in a majestv and pomp, — the which
To leaTC is a thousand-fold more bitter, than
*Tis sweet at first to acquire, — after this process.
To give her the avaunt! it is a pity
Would move a monster.

Old L. Hearts of most hard temper

Melt and lament for her.

^nne. O, God's will ! much better.

She ne'er had known pomp : though it be temporal.
Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce
It, from the bearer, 'tie a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing.

Old L. Alas, poor lad/!

She's a stranger now again.

j^nne. So much the mor«

Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I swear, 'tis better to l>e lowly bom,
And range with humble livers in content.
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief.
And wear a golden sorrow.

Old L. Our content

Is our best having.

■Anne. By my troth, and inaidenhesd»

I would not be 3 queen.

Old L. Beshrew me, I would.

And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you>
For all this spice of your hypocrisy :
You, that hav« so fair parts of woman on you>
Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet
AllVetcd eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
Which, to say sooth, are blessiups : and which gifts
(Saving your mincing) the capacity
Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive.
If you might please to stretch it.

Anne, Nay, good troths—

208 KING HENRY VHI. Act 2.

OldL. Yes, troth, and troth,— You would not be
a queen?

Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.
Old L, *Tis strange j a three-pence bowed would
hire me,

Old as I am, to queen it : But, I pray you.
What think you of a duchess ? have you limbs
To bear that load of title ?

Anne. No, in truth.

OldL. Then you are weakly made: Pluck off a
little ;

I would not be a young count in your way,
For more than blushing comes to : if your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.

Anne. How you do talk !

I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.

OldL. In faith, for little England
You'd venture an emballing : I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here I

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth
to know
The secret of your conference?

Anne. My good lord,

Not your demand ; it values not your asking :
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of ^ood women : there is hope.
All will be well.
Anne. Now I pray God, amen!

Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly
blessings

Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady.
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty
Commends his good opinion to you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than marchioness of Pembroke ; to which title
A thousand pound a year, annual support.
Out of his grace he adds.

Anne. I do not know.

What kind of my obedience I should tender;
More thaa my all is nothing : nor my prayeia

Sc. 3.

KING HENRY VIII.

20d

Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes
More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayers, and
wishes,

Are all I can retum- 'Beseech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obetiience.
As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness ;
Whose health, and royalty, I pray for.

Cham. Lady,
I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit.
The king hath of you. — I have perus'd her well ;

Beauty and honour in her are so mingled.

That they have caught the king : and who knows yet.

But from this lady may proceed a gem,

To lighten all tins isle T— 1*11 to the king,

And say, I spoke with you.

^nne. My honour'd lord.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

Old L. Why, this it is ; see, see !
I have been begRing sixleen years in court,
(.4m yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could
Come pat betwixt too early and too late.
For any suit of pounds : and you, (O fate !)
A very fresh-fish here, (fie, fie upon
This compell'd fortune !j have your mouth fill'd up.
Before you open it.

Annt. This is strange to me.

OldL. How tastes itT is it bitter? forty pence, no.
There was a lady once, (Ms an old story,)
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt : — Have yo\i heard it f

Annt. Come, you are pleasant.

Old L. With your theme, I could

O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroke'!
A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect ;
No other obligation : By my life.
That promises more thousands : Honour's train
Is longer than his foreskin. Bv this time,
1 know, your back will bear a auchess ; — Say,
Are you not stronger than you were ?

Anne. Good lady.

Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy.
And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no being.
If this salute my blood a jot ; it faints me.
To think what follows,
The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
Tn our long absence : Pray, do not deliver

210 KING HENRY VIH. Act 2.

What here you have heard, to her.

OldL. What do you think me ? {Exeunt.

SCENE IV.
A hall in Black-Friars.

Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two P'ergers,
with short silver tonnds ; nea t them, two Scribes, i/i
the habits of doctors ; a/lcr them, the Archbishop of
CANTERBURY alone ; after him, the Bishops of
LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, d/jrf SAINT
ASAPH ; ne,Ti them, with some small distance, fol~
laws a Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great
seal, and a cardinal's hat ; then two Priests, bearing
each a silver cross; then a Gentleman- Usher bart'
headed, accompanied with a Sergeant at Arm,
bearing a silver mace ; then two Gentlemen, bearing
two great silver pillars ; after them, side beside, iae
two Cardinals WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS ; two
Noblemen with the sword and mace. Then enter
the King and Queen, and their Trains. The King
takes place under the cloth of state ; the two Cnv'
dinals sit under him as judges. The Queen takes
place, at some distance from~the King. The Bishops
place themselves on each side the court, in manner of a
consistory ; below them, the Scribes. The Lords sit
nes-t the Bishops. The Crier and the rest of the At-
tendanis siandin convenient order about the stage.
H-^ol. Whilst GUI' commission from Rome is read,

Let silence be commanded.
K. Hen. What's the need ?

It hath already publickly been read,

And on all sides the authority allow'd ;

You may then spare that time.
ff 'ol. Be't so : — Proceed.

Scribe. Say, Henry king of England, come into

the court.
Crier. Henry king of England, &c.
K.Hen. Here.

Scribe. Say, Katharine queen of England, come

into the court.
Crier. Katharine queen of England, &c.

\_TAe Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair,
goes about the court, comes to the King, and kneels
at his feet ; then speaks.']

Q. Kaih.. Sir, I desire you, dome right and justice;

Sc. 4. KINO HENRY VIH. 211

And to l>cstow youT pity on me : for
I am s most poor womMii, and a stranger,
Boni out of your dotnmions ; having here
Ko iudge imlifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,
In what have I offended youT whai cause
Hath my behaviour ffiveii to your displeasure,
Tiat thus you should proceed to put me o/l.
And take your good grace from me T Heaven witness,
I have been to you a true and humble %vife.
At all times to your will conformable :
Ever in fear to icindle your dislike.
Yen, subject to your countenance ; glad, or sorry.
As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour,
I ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too T Or which of your friends
Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy ! what friend of mine.
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
Continue in my likiuR I nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharg'd ? Sir, call to mind.
That I have been your wife, in this oWdience,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
With many children by you : If, in the course
And process of this time, you can report,
And pi-ove it too, against mine honour aught,
lly bond to wedlock, or my love and duty.
Against your sacred .person, in God's name.
Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir.
The king, your father, was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatch'd wit and judsment : Ferdmand,
My father, kinij of Spain, was reckon'd one
T^e wisest prince, that there had veign'd by many
A year before : U is not to be question d,
Th'at they had galher'd a wise council to them
Of every realm, that did debate this business.
Who deem'd ouv mai-riage lawful: Wherefore 1
humbly

Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till 1 may
Be by my friends in Spain advis'd ; -ivhose counsel
I will implore ■ if not; i'the name of God,
Your pleasure be fulfiU'd ! . , j

ff'^f^ You have here, lady,

CAud oi your choice,) these reverend fathers ; men

212 KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

Of singular integrity and learning,

Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled

To plead your cause : It shall be therefore bootless,

That longer you desire the court ; as well

For your own quiet, as to rectify

"What is tmsettled in the king.

Cam, His grace

Hath spSken well, and justly : Therefore, madam,
It's fit this royal session do proceed ;
And that, without delay, their ailments
Be now produced, aiid-heard.

Q. Kath. Lord cardinal,—

To you 1 speak.

frol. Your pleasure, madam,

Q.Kath. Sir,

I am about to weep ; but, thinking that
We are a queen, (or long have dream'd so,) certain.
The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
I'll turn to sparks of fire.

f^'ol. Be patient yet.

Q. Kath. I will, when you are humble ; nay, before.
Or God will punish me. I do believe,
Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
You are mine enemy ; and make my challenge.
You shall not be my judge : for it is yon
Have blo^vn this coal' betwixt my lord and me,—
Which God's dew quench ! — Therefore, I say again,
I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul
Refuse you for my judge ; whom, yet once more,
I hold my most malitiious foe, and think not
At all a friend to truth.

Pf^ol. I do profess,

You speak not like yourself; who ever yet
Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects
Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom
O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me
wrong :

I have no spleen against you ; nor injustice
For you, or any : how far J have proceeded.
Or how far further shall, is warranted
By a commission from the consistory.
Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me.
That I have blo^vn this coal : I do deny it :
The king is present: If it be known to him.
That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound.
And worthily, my falsehood? yea, as mucli
As you have done my truth. But, if he know

Sc. 4.

KING HENRY VIII.

213

That I am free of your report, he knows,

1 am not of your %vronR. Therefoi-e in him

It lies, to cure me : and the cure is, to

Remov*e these thoughts from you : The which before

His highness shall speak to, t do beseech

You, gracious madam, to unthii\k your speaking,

And to say so no more.

Q. A'rtM. My lord, my lord,

I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning, You are meek, andhum-

hle-moulh'd ;
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming.
With mccKneas and humility : but your heart
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
You have, liy fortune, auci his highness' favours.
Gone slightly o'er low steps ; and now are mounted
Where powers are your retainers : and your words,
Domesticks to you, serve your will, as't please
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you.
You tender more your person's honour, than
Your high profession spiritual : That again
I do refuse you for my judge ; and here,
Before you all, appeal unto the pope.
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness,-
And to be judg'd by him.

{She ctert'sies to the A'ing, and ofers to tieprtrt.

Cam. 'I he queen is obstinate.

Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainful to be try'd by it; 'tis not well.
She's yoing away.

K.Jien. Call her again.

Crier. Katharine queen of England, come into

the court.
Grif. Madam, you are call'd back.
Q. Kath. What need you note it ? pray you, keep

your way :

When you arc call'd, return. — Now the Lord help.
They vex me past my patience .'—pray you pass on :
I will not tarry ; no, nor ever more.
Upon iliis business, my appearance make
In any of their courts.

^Exeitnt Queen, Grijilk, and her other
attendants.
K. Hen. Go thy ways, Kate :

That man i'the world, who shall report he has
A belter wife, let him in nought be trusted.
For speaking false in that : Thou art, alone.

334 KING HENRY VIII. Act 2.

(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,

Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,—

Obeying in commanding, — and thy parts

Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,)

The queen of earthly queens ; — She is noble born ;

And, like her true nobility, she has

Carried herself towards me.

ff'ol. Most gracious sir.

In humblest manner X require your highness.
That it shall please you to declare, in hearing
Of all these ears, (for where I am robb'd and bound«
There must I he uuloos'd ; although not there
At once and fully satisfied,) whether ever I
Did broach tins business to your highness ; or
Jjaid any scruple in your way, which might
Induce you to the question on't? or ever
Have to you, — but with thanks to God for such
A royal lady, — spake one the least word, might
Be to the prejudice of her present stale.
Or touch of her good person ?

A*. Hen. My lord cardinal,

I do excuse you ; yea, upon mine honour,
I free you from't. You are not to be taught
That you have many enemies, that know not
Why they are so, but, like to village curs.
Bark when their fellows do : by some of these
The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd :
But will you be more justified ? you ever
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business ; never
Desir'd it to be stirr'a ; but oft have hinder'd ; oft
The passages made toward it : — on my honour,
I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,
And thus far clear him. Now, what m'ov'd me to't, —
I will be bold with time, and your attention : —
Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; — give

heed to't :—
My conscience first received a tenderness.
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador;
Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage, 'twixt the duke of Orleans and
Our daughter Mai-y : I'the progress of this business,
Ere a determinate resolution, he
(I mean the bishop) did require a respite ;
Wherein he might the king his lord adv&rtise
Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Hfispecting this our marriage with the dowager,

Sc. 4. KING HENRY VIII.

215

Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook

The bosom of my conscience, eiiter'd me,

Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble

Tlu- region of my breast ; which forc'd such way,

Tliat niany maz'd considerinfis did throng,

Aud press'd in with this caution. First, methougbt>

1 stood not in the smile of heaven ; who had

Commanded nature, tHat my lady's womb.

If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should

D<i no more ofllces of life to't, than

The grave does to the dead : for her male issue

Or died where they were made, or shortly after

This world Imd airM them : Hence I toolc a thought.

This was a iudpiient on me ; that my kingdom,

AVell worlhy the best heir o'the world, should not

Be gladded in't by me ; Then follows, that

I weigh'd the danger, which my realms stood in

By this my issue's fail ; and that gave to me

Many a groaning throe. 'I'hus hulling in

The wild sea of my conscience, 1 did steer

Toward this remedy, whereupon we are

Now present here together; that's to say,

1 meant to rectify my cpnscience, — which

I then did feel full sicV, and yet not well, —

By all the reverend fathers of'^ the land.

And doctors learn'd.— First, 1 began in private

With you, my lord of Lincoln ; you remember

How under my oppression 1 did leek,

AVhen 1 first mov'd you.

tin. Very well, my liege.

K.Iien. 1 have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself
to say

How far you satisfied me. .

Lin. So please your highness.

The question did at first so stagger me, —
Bearing a state of mighty moment in't.
And consequence of dread, that I committed
The dai ing'st counsel which 1 had, to doubt ;
And did entreat your highness to this course,
AVhich you are running here.

A'. Jien. I then mov'd you,

My lord of Canterbury ; and got your leave
To make this present summons :— Unsolicited
I left no reverend person in this court ;
But by particular consent proceeded,
Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on :
For no'disHke i'the world against the person

316

KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points
Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward :
Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life,
And kingly dignity, we are contented
To wear our mortal state to come, with her,
Katharine our queen, before the primest creature
That's paragon'd o'the world,

So please your highness.
The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
That we adjourn this court till further day :
Mean while mnst be an earnest motion
Made to the queen, to call back her appeal
She intends unto his holiness.

[ Tket/ rise to depart,
rr-r^^ ' perceive, [^side.

These cardinals trifle with me : I abhor
This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome,
My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,
Pr'ythee return ! with thy approach, I know.
My comfort comes along. Break up the court :
I say, set on. [Eaeunt, in manner as they entered.

ACT III. SCENE 1.
Palace at Bridewell.
A room in the Queen's apartment.
The Queen, and some of her IVomen, at work.
Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench : my soul grows
sad with troubles ;
Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst : leave
working.

SONG.

Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain-tops, that freeze.

Bow themselves, when he did sing :
To his musick, plants, and flowers.
Ever sprung; as sun, and showers,

There had made a lasting spring.
Evei-y thing that heard him play.
Even the billows of the sea,

Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet musick is such art;
Killing care, and grief of heart,

Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.

Sc. I. KING HENRY VIII. 217

Enter a Gentleman.
O. Knii. How now ?

Gent. An't please your grace, the two great
cardinals
Wait in the presence.
Q. A'alh. Would they speak with me t

Gent. They will'd me say so, madam.
Q. Kath. Pray their graces

To come near, [fxi/ Gent."] What can be their
business

With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour ?
I do not like their coming, now I think on't.
They tjiould be c^ood men ; their affairs are righteous :
But all hoods make not monks.

Enter WOLSKY and CAMPEIUS.
^ Peace to your highness !

Q. Kath. Your graces find me here pait of a

housewife ;

I would be all, against the worst may happen.
What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords T
H^ol. May it please you, noble madam, to with-
draw

Into your private chamber, we shall give you
The full cause of our coming.

Q.Kath. Speak it here ;

There's nolliing I have done yet, o' my conscience,
Deser\-es a corner: 'Would, all other women
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do !
My lords, 1 care not, (so much I am happy
Above a number,) if my actions
Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them.
Envy and base opinion set against them,
I know my life so even : If your business
Seek me out, and ^»at way I am wife in.
Out with it boldly ; Truth loves open dealing.

Wol. Tnntn est erga te mentis integrilas, regina
serenissima, —

Q.Kalh. O, good my lord, no Latin;
I am not such a truant since my coming.
As not to know the language I have liv'd in :
A strange tongue makes my cause more strange,
suspicious :

Pray, speak in English ; here are some will thank
you.

If you speak truth, for their poor miatress' sake ;

218

KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

Believe ine,ste has hadmuch wrong « Lord cardinal^
The willing'st sin I ever yet committed.
May be absolv'd iu English.

fVol. Noble lady,

I am sorry, my integrity should breed,
(And service to his majesty and you,)
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.
We come not by the way of accusation,
To taint that honour every good tongue blesses ;
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow ;
You have too much, good lady : but to know
How you stand minded in the weighty difference
Between the king and you ; and to deliver.
Like free and honest men, our just opinions.
And comforts to your cause.

Cam. Most lionour'd madam.

My lord of York, — out of his noble nature.
Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace ;
Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure
Both of his truth and him, twhich was too far,) —
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace.
His service and his counsel.

Q. Kath. To betray me. {Aside.

My lords, I thank you both for your good wills,
Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so !)
But how to make you suddenly an answer.
In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,
(More near my life, I fear,) with ray weak wit.
And to such men of gravity and learning,
In truth, I know not. I was set at work
Among my maids ; full little, God knows, looking
Either for such men, or such business.
For her sake that I have been, (for I feel
The last fit of my greatness,) good your graces.
Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause;
Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless.

fVol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with
these fears ;
Your hopes and friends are infinite.

Q.Kath. In England,

But little for my profit: Can you think, lords.
That any Englishman dare give me counseH
Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure,
{'ITiougK he be grown so desperate to be honest,)
And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends.
They that must weigh out my "afflictions,
They that my trust must gi'ow to, live not here;

Sc. 1. KING HENRY VIII. 219

They are, as all my oilier comforts, far hence,

In mine own country, lords.

Cam. I would, your grace

Would leave your griefs, and talte my counsel.
Q.A'atk. How, shJ

Cam. Put your main cause into the king's pro-
tection ;

He's loving, and most gracious; 'twill be much

Both for your honour Iwtter, and your cause;

For, if the trial of the law o'ertake you.

You'll part aivay disgrac'd.

H-'ol. He tells you rightly,

Q. Kath. Ye tell me »vhat ye wish for both, my
ruin :

Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye!
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge.
That no king can corrupt.

Cam. Your rage mistakes us.

Q. Kath. The more shame for ye; holy men I
thought ye.
Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;
But caratnal sins, and hollo%v hearts, I fear ye :
Mend them for shame, my lords. Is this your
comfort !

The cordial that ye bring a «Tetched lady ?

A woman lost among yc, laugh'd at, scorn'd ?

1 will not wish ye half my miseries,

I have more charity : But say, I wam'd ye ;

Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once

The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.

/Vol. Madam, this is a mere distraction;
You turn the good we offer into envy.

O. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing ; Woe upon ye.
And all such false professors! Would ye have me
(If you have any justice, any pity ;
If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits,)
Put my sick cause into his hands, that hates mef
Alas ! ne has banish'd me his bed already ;
His love, too long ago : 1 am old, my lords.
And all the fellowship, I hold now with him.
Is only my obedience. What can happen
To me above this wretchedness ? all your studiea
Make me a curse like this.

Cam, Your fears are worse.

Q.Kath. Have I liv'd thus long — (let me speak
myself.

Since virtue fiads no friends,) — a wife, a true one?

220 KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory,)
Never yet branded with suspicion?
Have 1 with all my full affections
Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd
him?

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him J
Almost forgot my prayers to content him ?
And am I thus reward^ed ? 'tis not well, lords.
JBriug me a constant i^oman to her husband ;
One, that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure ;
And to that woman, when she has done most.
Yet will I add an honour, — a great patience.

Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.

Q.Katfi. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty.
To give up willingly that noble title,
Your master wed lue to : nothing but death
Shall e'er divorce my dignities.

tVol. 'Pray, hear me.

Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English
earth.

Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it !

Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts .

What will become of nae now, wretched lady ?

I am the most unhappy woman living, —

Alas ! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes ?

[To her tcomen.
Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity.
No friends, no hope ; no kindred weep for me.
Almost, no grave allow'd me : — Like the lily.
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head, and perish.

ff'oL If your grace

Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest.
You'd feel more comfort : why should we, good lady.
Upon what cause, wrong you 1 alas ! our places.
The way of our profession is against it ;
We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them.
For goodness' sake, consider what you do ;
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Grow from the k-iog's acquaintance, by this carriage.
The hearts of princes kiss obedience.
So much they love it ; but, to stubborn spirits.
They swell, and grow as ten-ible as storms.
I know, you have a gentle, noble temper,
A soul as even as a calm; Pray, think us
Those we profess ; peace-makers, friends, and
servants.

I

Sc. 3. KING HENRY VIII. 221

Cam. Madam, you'll fiqd it so. You wrong
your virtues

With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit^
As yours was put into you, ever casts
Such donlits, as false coin, from -it. The Idn^
loves you ;

Beware, you lose it not : For us, if you please
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service,

Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords ; And, pray,
forpive me,
If I have us'd myself unmannerly ;
You know, I am a woman, lacking wit
To make a seemly answer to such persons.
Pray, do my service to his majesty :
He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers»
While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,
Bestow your counsels on me : she now bef(s.
That bttle thought, when she set footing here.
She should have bought her dignities so dear.

\_Exettnt,

SCENE II.
j^ntC' chamber to the King's apartment.
Enter the Duke of NORFOLK, the Duke 0/ SUF-
FOLK, the Karl of SURREY, and the Lord
Cham&erlain .

Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints
And force them with a constancy, the cardinal
Cannot stand under them : If you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise.
But that you shall sustain more new disgracest
W ith these you bear already.

Sur. I am joyful

To meet the least occasion, that may give m« ■
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke.
To be reveng'd on him.

■Si//, Which of the peers

Have uucontemn'd gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected f when did he regard
The stamp of nobleness in any person,
Out of himself?

Chum . My lords, you speak your pleasures ;

What he deserves of you and me, I knou- ;
What we can do to him, (though now the time
Gives way to us,) I much fear. If you saauot
130

M2 KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

Bar his access to the Hng, never attempt
Any thing on him ; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in his tongue.

A'or. Oi fPa'i' him not ;

His spell in that is out : the king hath found
Matter as^ainst him, that for ever mars
The honey of his languas^e. No, he*s settled.
Not to come off, in his displeasure.

Sar. Sir,_
I should he glad to hear such news as this
Once every hour.

Nor. Believe it, this is true.

In the divorce, his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded ; wherein he appears.
As I could wish mine enemy.

Sur. How cama

His practices to light?

Suf. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried.
And came to the eye o'the king : wherein was read.
How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness
To stay the judgment o'the divorce ; For if
It did take place, I do, quoth he, perceive,
Mr/ king ts tarigl'd in (ffection to
A creature of the queen's, ladi/ Anne BuUen.
Sur. Has the king this?
SuA Believe it.

Sur. Will this work ?

Cham, The king in this perceives him, how he
coasts.

And hedges, his own way. But in this pomt
All his tricks founder, and he hrings his physick
After his patient's death ; the king already
Hath married the fair lady.

Sur. 'Would he had !

Suf. May you be happy in your %vish, my lord;
For, I profess, you have it.

Sur. Now all my joy

Trace the conjunction !

Suf. My amen to't !

j\,^or. All men's.

5m/. There's order given for her coronation :
Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left
To some ears unrecouiited. — But, my lords.
She is a gallant creature, and complete
In mLad and feature : I persuade me, from her

Sc. 2. KING HENRY VIII. 223

Will fall some Messing to this laud, which shall
In It be memorix'd.

But, will the kine
Digest this letter of the cardinal's f
Th« Lord forbid I

Marry, amen !

T^«re be more wasps that buz about his nose,

V, ill make this stiiiij the sooner. Cardinal Camneius

Is stolen away to Rome ; hath ta'en no leave ;

Has left the cause o'lhe kiiiR unhandled ; and

Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,

To second all his plot. I do assure you

The king cry"d» ha ! at this.

Ciarn. Now, God incense him.

And let him cry ha, louder !

But, my loni,

« hen returns Cranmer?

5u/. He is returii'd, in his opinions*; which
Have satisfied the king for his divorce.
Together with all famous colleges
Almost in Christendom : shortly, I believe.
His second marriage shall be publish'd, and
Her coronation. Kathariue no more
Shall be callM, queen; but princess dowager.
And ividow to prince Arthur.
A This same Cranmer'a
A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the king's business.

Su/. He has; and we shall see him

t^oT It an archbishop.

^^or. So I hear.

^^"f- Tis so.

The cardmal —

Unter WOLSEY and CROMWELL.

^'ff- Ohser^-e, observe, he's moody.

/yo/. T)ie packet, Cromwell, gave it you the king f

Cnm. To his own hand, in his bedchamber.

ff'ol. Look'd he o'the inside of the paper?

Crom, Presently
He did unseal them : and the first he view'd.
He did it u*ith a serious mind ; a heed
Was in his countenance : You, he bade
Attend him here this morning,
^"'o'. Is he ready

To come abroad J

224 KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

Cfom, I think, l>y this he is.

fi'ol. Leave me a while. — \_Exit Cromwell.

It shall be to the duchess of Alencon,
The French king's sister : he shall marry hei-. —
Anne BuUeii ! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him :
Ther» is more in it than fair visage. — BuUeu!
No, we'll no Bullens. — Speedily I wish
Tohearfrom Rome. — The marchioness of Pembroke!

Aor. He's discontented.

Su/. May be, he hears the king

Does whet his anger to him.

Sur. Sharp enough.

Lord, for thy iustice !

ff^oi. The late queen's gentlewoman ; a knight's
daughter,

To he her mistress' mistress ! the queen's queen ! —
This caudle burns not clear: 'tis 1 must^nuff it;
Then, out it goes. — What though I know her vir-
tuous.

And well-deserving? yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, ihat she should lie i'lhe bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
An hereticV, an arch one, Cranmer ; one
Hath cvawl'd into the favour of the king.
And is his oracle.

iVor. He is vex'd at something.

Sit/. 1 would, 'twere something that would fret
the string, |
And master-cord of his heart! t

Enter the King, reading a schedule ; and LOVELL.

Suf. The king, the king.

K.Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
To his own portion ! and what expence by the hour
Seems to flow from him ! How, i'tne name of thrift.
Does he rake this together? — Now, my lords;
Saw you the cardinal?

Nor. My lord, we have

Stood here observing him : Some strange commotion
Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts ;
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground.
Then, lays his finger on his temple ; straight.
Springs out into fast gait ! then, stops again.
Strikes his breast hard ; and anon, he casts
His eye against the moon : in moat strange postures
We have seen him set himself.

Sc. 3. KING HENRY VIII. 226

K. Hen. It may well be ;

Tliere is a mutiny in his mind. ThiH morning
Papers of 8tnt« he sent me to peruse,
As I reqiiir*d ; And, wot yon, what I found
There ; on my conscience, put unwittingly !
Forsooth, an inventory, ihu> importing, —
The several pai-ceU of his phife, his treasure,
Rich stuff*, and omnments of household ; which
I find at such proud rate, that it out-spcaVs
Possession of h subject-

^'tr. It's heaven's will ;

Some spirit put tbis paper iu the packet,
To bless your eye withal.

A'. Hen. If we did think

His contemplation were above the earth,
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings ; l)ul, 1 am afraid.
His thinkings are below the moon, not worth
His serious considering.

[//« tfUctK hi.^ .teat, and wAi.^er^ Zww^/, who
goes to ff^olsey.

^f'ol. Heaven forgive me!

Kver God bless your highness !

K.Hcn. Good, my lord.

You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear th« inventory
Of your best graces in your mind ; the which
You were now running o'er : you have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span,
To keep your earthly audit : Sure, in that
1 deem you an ill husband ; and am glad
To have you therein my companion.

rVot. Sir,
For holy offices I have a time ; a time
To think upon the pan of business, which
I bear i'the stale ; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortalj
SJuitt Rive my tendance to.

K.Hcn. You have said well.

JVol. And ever may your highness yoke together,
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying !

K. Hen. *Tis well said again ;

And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well i
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you :
He said, he did ; and with his deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office,

226 KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

J have Vept you next my heart ; have not alone
Employ'd you, where high profits mijjht come home.
But par'd ray present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.

iSur. The Lord increase this business !
K. Hen. Have 1 not msde you

The prime man of the state ? 1 pi ay you, tell me.
If what I now pronounce, you have found true :
And, if you may confess ii, say withal.
If you are bound to us, or no. Wtiat say you?

H''ol. My soveieign, I confess, your royal graces,
Shower'd on me daily, have been more, than could
My studied purposes requite ; which went
Beyond all man's endeavours: — my endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires,
Yet, fil'd with my abilities: Aline own ends
Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed
To the good of your most sacred person, and
The profit of the state. For your great graces
Heap'd upon me, poor uudeserver, I
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks ;
My prayers to heaven for you ; my loyalty,
Which ever has, and ever shall be growing.
Till death, that winter, kill it.

A', Hen. Fairly ans^var'd ;

A loyal and obedient subject is
Therein illustrated : The honour of it
Does pay the act of it; as, i'the contrary.
The foulness is the punishment. I presume.
That, as my hand has open'd Iwiinty to you.
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'a honouri
more

On you, than any ; so your hand, and heart,
Vour brain, and every function of your power.
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty.
As 'twere in love's particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any.

That for your highness* good I ever iabour'd
More than mine own ; that am, have, and will be.
Though all the world should crack their duty to you,
And throw it from their soul ; though perils did
Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and
Appear in forms more horrid ; yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood.
Should the approach of this wild river break,

What should this mean?

If'oL

Sc. 2. KING HENRY Till. 227

And stand unshaken jroars.

K. Hen. 'Tis nobly spoken :

Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast.
For you have seen him open't. — Read o'er this;

[Giving him papert.
And, after, this : and then to breakfast, with
What appetite you have.

[£.>iV Kinsi, frotcning upon Cardinal H'oliei/ :
the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and
whispering,

ff'ol. What should this mean!

Wliat sadden anger's thisT how have I reap'd it f
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
Ceap'd from his eyes : So looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him ;
Tnen makes him nothing. I must read this paper ;
I fear, the story of his anger. — Tis so ;
This paper has undone me : — 'Tis the account
Of all thai world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom.
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence.
Fit for a fool to fall by 1 What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet,
X sent the king? Is there no way to cure thist
No new device to beat this from his brains ?
I know, 'twill stir him strongly ; Yet I know
A way, if it lake rijjht, in spite of fortune
AVill bring me off again. What's thin— the Pope ?
The letter, as I live, with all the business
I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell !
I have touch 'd the highest point of all my greatness;
And, from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now to my setting : I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening.
And no man see me more.

Re-enter the Dukes ofSORFOl^K fl/i(iSUFFOLK.
the Earl of SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal : who
commands you
To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands ; and to confine yourself
To Asher-house, my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from his highness.

IVol. Stay,
Where's your commission, Jords! words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.

338 KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

Suf.

Who dare cross them ?

Bearing the Idng's will from his mouth expressly?

n'ol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it,
(I mean, your malice,) know, officious lords,
I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, — envy.
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces.
As if it fed ye ? and how sleek and wanton
Ve appear in every thing may liring my ruin !
Follow your envious coui-ses, men of malice ;
You have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt.
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,
You ask \vith such a violence, the king,
(Mine. and your master,) with his own hand gave me:
fiade me enjoy it, with the place and honours.
During my life ; and, to confirm his goodness,
I'ied it by letters patents : Now, who'll take it 1
Sur. The king, that gave it.

Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue, than said so,

Sur. Thy ambition.

Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
The heads of all thy brother cardinals,
(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together,)
W^eigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy !
You sent me deputy for Ireland ;
Far from his succour, from the king, from all.
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him ;
Whilst your gieat goodness, out of holy pity.
Absolved him with an axe.

fVol. This, and all else

This talking lord ean lay npoii my credit,
I answer, is most false. The duke by law
Found his deserts : how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end.
His noble jury and foul cause can witness.
If I luv'd many words, lord, I should tell you.
You have as little honesty as honour ;
That I, in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be>
And all that love his follies.

Sur. By my soul,

5c, 3. KING HBNRY VIII. 229

Vour lonfi coat, priest, protects you ; thou shouldst

feel „ 1 1

My sword i'lhe life-blood of thee else.— My lords.
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance !
And from this fellow ! If we live thus tamely.
To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet.
Farewell nobility ; let his grace go forward.
And dare us with his cap, like larks.

H'ol. All, goodness

Is poison to thy stomach.

^ur. Yes, that goodness

Of gleaning rU the land's wealth into one.
Into your hands, cardinal, by extorlion;
The goodness of your intercepted packets,
You writ to the pope, against the king : your
goodness.

Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.—

My lord of Norfolk,— as you are truly noble,

As you respect the common good, the state

Of our despis'd nobility, our issues,

Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,—

Produce the grand sum of his sins, the arUcles

Collected from his life :— I'll stanU- you

Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench

Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.

/f'ol. How much, methinks, I could despise
this man, . . ,

But that I am bound in charity agamst »* • ^

.\'or. Those articles, my lord, arc in the king s
hand :

But, thus much, they are foul ones. ^

So much fairer.
And spotless, shall mine innocence arise,
A\Tieu the king knows my truth.

This caimot save you :
I thauk my memory, I yet remember
Some of these articles; and out they shall.
Now, if you can blush, and cry guilty, canlmai.
You'U show a little honesty.

fyol. Speak on, sir ;

I dare your worst obiections : it 1 blush.
It is, to see a nobleman want manners.
Sur. I'd riither want those than my head. Have

First, Tha^.^without the king's assent, or knowledge*
You wrought to be a legate; by which power
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.

230 KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, ov else
lo foreign princes. Ego el Rtr metis
Was still inscrib'd ; in which you brought the Hnj
io be your servant.

uf^' r , . "i'hout the knowledge

Jbither of king or council, when you went
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold
lo carry into Flanders the great seal.

■!■">■. Item, you sent a large commission
lo trregory de Cassalis, to conclude.
Without the king's will, or the state'.s allowance.

's^Sue between his highness and Verrara.

6b/ That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd
lour holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.

Sur. I hen, that you have sent innumerable
substance,

(By whatmeans got, I leave to yourown conscience,)
10 lurnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities ; to the mere undoing
ui all the kingdom. Many more there are ;
Which, smce they are of you, and odious,
1 will not taint my mouth with

v'^'"""-. ,„ O my lord,

Fress not a falling man too far ; 'tis virtue i
nis faults he open to the laws; let them,
Not you, correcf him. My heart weeps to see him
*o little ot his great self.

o"''.\ . , I forgive him.

Auj. Lord cardmal,the king's further pleasure is.—
Because all those things, you have done of late

By your power legatine within this kingdom,

tali into the compass of a pramumre,—

1 hat therefore such a writ be su'd against you :

To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,

l.hattels, and whatsoever, and to be

Out of the king's protection :_This is my charge.
l\or And so we'll leave you to your meditationj

How to live better. For your stubborn answer.

About the giving back the great seal to us,

1-he king shall know it,and,no douht.shall thank you.

io fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.
jj-„; c r „ , l^-'"'"' M but Holsm.

F,,, „ ff to the little good you bear me.

Farewell a long farewell, to all my greatness!

I his IS the state of man ; To-day he puts forth

Ihe tender leaves of hone, to-morrow blossoms.
I\m bears his blushing honours thick upon him i

Sc. 2. KING HENRY VIU. 231

The third day comes a frost, a ViUing frost ;
And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His great"ess is a ripening, — nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have venturM,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders^
Tliis many summers in a sea of glory ;
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me ; and now has left me,
M'eary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye ;
I feel my heart new opon'd ; O, how wretched
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours t
'Iliere is, betwixt that smile we would asi>ire to.
That sweet asptct of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to Jiope again. —

Eater CROMWELL, amazedly.

Why, how now, Cromwell?

Crom, I have no power to speak, sir.

fyol. What, amaz'd

At my misfortunes t can thy spirit wonder,
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.

Crom. How does your grace?

ff^ol. Why, well;

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace al>ove all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,
1 humbly thank his grace ; and from ihese shoulders.
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honour :
O, *tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a bui-den.
Too heai,-y for a man that hopes for heaven.

Crom. I am glad, your grace has made that right
use of it.

li'ol. I hope, I have : I am able now, methinks,
(Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,)
To endure more miseries, and greater far.
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?

Crom. The heaviest, and the worst.

Is your displeasure with the king. _

/fol. God bless him!

232 KING HENRY VIII. Act 3.

Crom. Tie Mit is, that sir Thomas More is chosen
Liora cnancellor in your place.

n^ 'l', 1 , 'I'liat's somewhat sudden :
But he s a learned man. May he continue

Long in his highness" favour, and do justice

t or truth s sake, and his conscience ; that his bones.
W hen he has run his course, and sleeps iu blessinirs.

May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em '

What more ?

I '^™;?;^T''^' Cranmer is retum'd with welcome,
InstaU d lord archbishop of Canterbury
fni. That's news indeed.

■mtS™" I . . , , '»ily Anne,

-n^.. ? " ™ secrecy long married,

1 his day was view'd in open, as his (luaen,
t^oing to chapel ; and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.

X^i"" ''"'•sAe weight that pull'd me doivn.
O Cromwell,
The king has gone beyond me, all my glories
Jin that one woman I have loiit for ever'-
No suri shall ever ushev forth mine honours,
ur gild agaui the noble tro.ips that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get tliee from me, Cromwell,
1 am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
ro be thy lord and master : Seek the king :
lhat sun I pray, may never set I I have told him
W hat, and how true thou art : he will advance iheo :
Some htlle memory of me will stir him,
'ru his noble nature,) not to let
Thy hopeful service perish too ; Good CromweU,
rjeglect him not; maJie use now, and provide
r or thine own future safety.
At'™?-. , O my lord.

Must 1 then leave yon! must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master f
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
vv lib what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord —
Ihe king shall have my service ; but my prayers
s"""'! be yours.
irol. CroinweU, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman.
1-et s dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, CromweU:
Ami,— .when I am forgotten, as I shall be:
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Ot me more most be heard of,— say, I taught thee.

Sc. 2. KING HENRY Till. 233

Say, Wolsey, — Oiat once trod the ways of glory.
And soundea all the depths artd shoals of honour, —
Found thee a way, out of his wrecV, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
Cromwell, l' charge thee, fling away ambition;
B>' that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of bis Maker, hope to win by't?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts thathate thee;
Corruption wins no* more than honesty.
Still in ihy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not :
Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, he thy country's.
Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O
Cromwell,

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;

And, — Pr'ythee, lead me in :

There take an inventory of all I have.

To the last penny ; 'tis the king's: my robe.

And my integrity to heaven, is all

I dare now c^l mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwelli

Had I hut serv'd my God with half the zeal

I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age

Have left me naked to mln« enemies.

Crom. Good sir, have patience.

ff 'ol. So I have. Farewell

The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

/ [Exeunt.

ACT IV, SCENE t.
^ street in ffestminster.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent, You are well met once a^ain.

2 dent. And so are you.

1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and

behold

The lady Anne pass from her coronation 7

2 Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last en-

counter.

The duke of Buckingham came from his trial.

1 Gent. 'Tis very true: but that time offer'd sorrow;
This, general joy.

2 Gent. 'Tis well: the citizens,

I am sure, have shewn at full their royal minds ;
As, let them have their rights, they are ev«r forward
lu celebration of this day with shows,

234 KING HENRY VIU. Act 4,

Pageants, and sights of honour.

„1 Never gieater.

Nor, I'll assure you, better taVen, sir.

2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains.
That paper in your hand?

1 Gent. Yes ; 'tis the list
Of those that claim their offices this day,
By custom of the coronation.

The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be high steward ; next, the duke of Norfolk,
He to be earl marshal ; you may read the rest.

2 Gent. I thank you, sir ; had I not known those

customs,

I should have been beholden to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The p rincess dowager? how goes her business?

1 Gent. That I can tell you'^too. The archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order.

Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles oft"
From Ampthill, where the princess lay ; to which
Sha oft was cited by them, but appeai 'd not :
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd.
And the late marriage made of none effect:
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now, sick.

2 Gent. Alas, good lady !—

[Trumpets.

The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is
coming;.

THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.
A lively Nourish of trumpets ; then, enter

1 . Two Juf^es.

2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace befon

him .

3. Choristers singing. [Musick.

4. Mayor of London hearing the mace. Then Garter,

in his coat of arms', and on his head, a gilt
copper cromt.
i. Marquis of Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on
his head a demi-coronul of gold, /f'ith him,
the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver
tcith the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet.
Collars of SS.

Sc. I. KING HENRY Vlll.

335

6. Duke of Suffblk, in his robe of estate, his coronet

on his head, bearing a long white wand, as
hi^h-slCKard. ff 'ith him, the Duke of .\orfulk,
tetfh the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his
his head. Collars of SS.

7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports ;

under it, the ^Jueen in her robe; her hair
richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each
side of her, the bishops of London and H'in-
Chester.

S. 7'he old Duchess of Xorfolk, in a coronal of sold,
tvTOUghc with jiotcers, bearing the Queen's train.

9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, tpith plain circlets
of gold withoui Jiowers.

2 Cent. A royal train, believe me. — These I
know ; —

Who's that, that bears the sceptre?

1 Gent. Mai-quis Dorset :
And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod.

2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman : And thai

should he
The duke of Suffolk.

1 Gent. 'Tis tho same; high-steward.

3 Gent. And that my lord" of Norfolk?

Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. —
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel ;
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more, and richer, when he strains that lady :
I cannot blame his conscience.

1 Gent. They, that beai-
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.

2 Gent. Those men are happy ; and so are all,

are neai- her.
I take it, she that carries up the train.
Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses.

2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars,

indeed ;
And, sometimes, falling ones.

\E2 it Procession, with a great Nourish qf
trumpets.

1 Gent.

2 Gent.

Yes.

Heaven bless thee!
{Looking on the Queen*

I Gent.

No more of that.

236 KING akNRY VIII. Act 4.

Enter a third Gentleman.

God save you, sit- ! Where have you been broiling?
3 Gent. Among the croud i'the abbey; where a
finger

Could not be wedg'd in more ; and I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.

2 Gent. You saw
The ceremony ?

3 Gent. That I did.

1 Gent. How was it?
3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.

2 Gent. Good sir, spealc it to us.

3 Gent. As well as I am able. Ihe rich stream
Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off

A distance from her, while her grace sat down
To rest awhile, some half an hour, or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man : which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest.
As loud, and to as many tunes : hats, cloaks,
(Doublets, I think,) flew up ; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to «o, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press.
And make them reel before them. No man liviof
Could say, this is my loi/e, there ; all were woven
So strangely in one piece.

2 Gent. But, 'pray, what follow'd ?

3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with mo-

dest paces

Came to the altar ; where she kneel 'd, and, saint-like,

Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.

Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people :

When by the archbishop of Canterbury

She had all the royal makings of a queen ;

As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,

The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems

Laid nobly on her : which perform'd, the choir,

With all the choicest musick of thw kingdom,

Together sung 7'e Deum. So she parted,

And with the same full alate pac'd back again

Sc. 2.

KING HENRY VIIT.

237

To VorJc-place, where the feast is held.

1 Oent. Sir, you
Must no more call it York-place, that is past :
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost ;

Tis now the king's, and call'd — Whitehall.

3 Oent. I know it ;

But 'tis so lately fdtcr'd, that the old name
In fresh ahout me.

2 Oent. What two reverend bishops
Were those that went on each side of the queen ?

3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of

Winchester,
(Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,)
The other, London.

2 Gent. He of Winchester

Is held 110 great good lover of the archbishop's,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gent. All the land k-nnws that :
HDwever,yct there's no great breach ; when it comes,
Cranmei- will find a friend will not shrink from him.

2 Gent. Who msiy that be, T pray you ?

3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell ;
A man in much esteem with the king, and truly

A worthy friend. — 'I'iie king

Has maae him master o'the jewel-house.

And one, already, of the privy-council.

2 Gent. He will deserve more.

3 Gent. Yes, wthout all doubt.
Come, gentlemen, yc shall go my way, which

Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests t
Something I can command. As I walk thither,
111 tell ye more.
Boti. You may command us, sir.

[Exeunt.

SCENE ir.

Kimbolton.

Sit(er KATHARINK, Dumaer, sUk ; Ud betaan
GRIl'KITH and PATIENCE.

Grif. How does your grace?

Kath. O, Griffith, sick to death:

My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth.
Willing to leave their burden ; Reach a chair : —
So, — now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledd'st me,
That the great child of honour, cardinal Wolser,
131

33S KING HENRY VIII. Act 4.

Was dead ?

Grif. Yes, madam; Init, I thinV, your grace,
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.

Kath. Pr'ythee. good, Gviftith, tell me how he died:
If w ell, he stepp'd before me, happily,
For my example.

GriJ. Well, the voice goes, madam :

For after the stout earl Northumberland
An-ested him at York, and brought him forward
(As a man sorely tainted) to his answer.
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill.
He could not sit his mule.

Knth. Alas, poor man!

Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
Lodg'd in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot.
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him ;
To whom he gave these words,— 0/«M^r abbots
An old mart, broken with the stormx of state.
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye \
Give him a little earth for charity .'
So went to bed : where eagerly the sickness
Pursu'd him still ; and, three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, (which he himself
Foretold, should be his last,) full of repentance
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again.
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.

Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him
Y'et thus far, Gritfith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity,— He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes ; one, that by suggestion
Ty'd all the kingdom : simony was fair play ;
His own opinion was his law : 1' the presence
He would say untruths ; and be ever double,
Both in his words and meaning : He was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful :
His promises were, as he then was, mighty ;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.

Grif. Noble madam.

Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his (rood now ?

Katk. Yes, good Griffiti

1 were malicious else.

Sc. 2.

KING HENRY VIU.

23»

Grif. This cardinal.

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
\Vas fashion'd to much honour. From his cradle,
He was a scholar, aud a ripe, and good one ;
£xc«eding wise, fair i>pol<en, and persuading:
Lofly, and sour, to them that lovM him not ;
But, to those meu that sought him, sweet as summer.
And though he were uiisatisfifd in getting,
(AVhich was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely : Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning, that he rais'd in you,
Ipswich, and Oxford ! one of which fell with him,
I'nwiUing to outlive the good that did it;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising.
That Christendom shall ever speak his \-irtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself.
And found the blessedness of being little :
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died, faring God.

Kath. After my death I wish no other herald.
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keop mine honour from corruption.
But such an honest chronicler as GriHith.
Whom 1 most hated 1 iving, thou hast made me.
With thy religious truth, and modesty.
Now in ins aslies honour : Peace be with him !—
Patience, l>e near me still ; and set me lower :
1 have not long to trouble thee. — Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sad and solemn musick.
Grif. She is asleep : Good wench, let's sit down
quiet.

For fear we wake her; — Softly, gentle Patience.

Tie /"islon. Knter, solemnly tripping one after an-
other, sir Personages, claa in white robes, wearing
on their heads garlands of 6ai/s, and golden vizards
on their faces; branches of bays, or palm, in their
hands. They first congee unto her, (hen dance ;
and, at certain changes, the jSrst two hold a spare
garland over her head ; at which, the other fnur
make reverend court'sies: then the two that held

240 KING HENRY VIII. Act4. I

the earland, deliver the same to the other next two, I
who observe (he f(vr.e order in their changes, and
holding the garland over her head : which done, ikey
deliver the^garland to the last two, who likewise
observe the same order : at which, (ns (/ tt were by
inspiration,) she makes in her sleep signs vf re-
joicing, and holdetk up her hands to heaven : and
so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the gar-
land with them. ^The musick continues. .

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye ? Are ye all
((one ?

And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye i
Grif. Madam, we are here.

^of^i. It is not you I call. for;

Saw ye none enter, since I slept?

None, madam.

Kath. No? Saw you not.even now, a blessed troop?
Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
They pvomis'd me eternal happiness ; - , ,

And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear : I shall.
Assuredly. , , j .

Gri/. 1 am most .joyful, madam, such good dreami
Possess your fancy.

A'aM Bid the mosicV leave.

They are harsh and heavy to me. [Afusick ceases.

pgf Do you note,

How much her ijrace is alter'd on the sudden ?
How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks,
And of an earthly cold ? Mark you her eyes ?
Gri/. She is going, wench ; pray, pray.
pgf^ Heaven comfort her!

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. An't like your grace,—
Kath. You are a saucy fellow;

Deserve we no more reverence ?

You are to blame,
Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour: go to, Itneel.

Mess. I humbly do entreat youv hiRhness' pardon ;
My haste made me unmannerly : There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see yon.
JCath. Admit him entrance, Griffith : But tais
iiUow

Sc. 3. KING HENRY VIH. 241

Let me ne'er see affain.

{Katunt Griffitk end Messenger.

Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS.

If mv sight fail not.
You should be loi-d ambassador trom the emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.

Cap. Madam, ihe same, your servant.

AV/fA. O my lord,

The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely
With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you.
What is your pleasuto with me t

Cap. Noble lady.

First, mine-own service to your grace ; the next*
The king's request that I would visit you ;
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by mt
Seuds you his princely commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

hath, O my good lord, that comfort comes too late ;
Tis like a pardon after execution :
That gentle physick, given in time, had cur'd me ;
But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his highness T

Cap. Madam, in good health.

Kath, So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
W hen I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Bauish'd the kingdom! — Patience, is that letter,
I caus'd you write, yet sent away ?

^ot. No, madam.

[Giving it to Katharine.

Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.

Cap. Most willing, madam.

hath. In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter:—-
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her !—
Beseecliing him, to give her virtuous breeding ;
(She is young, and of a noble modest nature ;
1 hope, she will deserve well;) and a little
To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him.
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
Is, that his noble grace would nave some pity
Upon mv wretched women, that so long,
Have foilow'd both my fortunes faithfully :
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
(And now I should not lie,) but will deserve.
For virtue, and true beauty of the sotil,

KING HENRY VIH. Act 5.

Foi" honesty, and decent carriage,
A right good husband, let him be a nnble ;
And, sure,those men are happy, that shall have them.
The last is, for my men ; — they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from me
That they may have their wat;es duly paid them,
And something over to remember me by;
If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life,
And able means, we had not parted thus.
These are the whole contents^ — And, good my lord,
By thai you love the dearest in this world,
As you wish Christian peace to souls departed, _
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
To do me this last right. _ ■

Cap. By heaven, I will;

Or let me lose the fashion of a man !

Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his highness :
Say, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world : tell hlni, in death I liless'd him,
For so l will. — Mine eyes grow dim. — Farewell,
My lord.— Griffith, farewell.— Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must lo bed ;
Call in more women. — When I am dead, good wench,
Let me be U3*d with honour ; strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste wife to my grave : embalm me,
Then lay me forth : although unqueen'd, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more. \E.veunt, leading Kaiharim.

ACT V. SCENE I.
^ gallery in the Palace.
Enter GARDINER Bishop of mnchester, a Page
trith a torch htfore htm, met by Sir THOMAS
LOVELL.

Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?

Boy. It hath struck.

Gar, These should he hours for necessities.
Not for delights ; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times. — Good hour of night, sir

Thomas !
Whither so late?

Lov. Came you from the king, my lord?

Gar. I did, sir Thomas ; and left him at primero

Sc. 1.

KING HENRY \IU.

243

With the duke of Suffolk.

Lob. I must to him too.

Before he go to hcd. 1*11 take my leave.

Gar. No» yet, sir Thomas l>oveU. What's tht
matter f

It eeems, yo\i nre in haste : an if there he
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late Imsiness : AHairs, tliat walk
(As, they say, spirits do,} at midniRhl, have
In them a wilder nature, than the business
That seeks despatch by day.

Lov. My lord, I love you;

And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen's in
labour.

They say, in great extremity ; and fear'd.
She'll with the labour end.

Gar. The fruit, she goes with,

I pray for heartily; that it may find
Good time, and live : but for the stock, sir Thomas,
I wish it grubb'd up now.

Lov. Methinks, I could

Cry the amen ; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, docs
Deserve our better wishes.

Gar. But, sir, sir,— -

Hear roe, sir Thomas: You are a gentleman
Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious;
And, let me tellyou, it will ne'er be well, —
'Twill not, sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she.
Sleep in their graves.

Lov. Now, sir, you speak of two

The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Crom-
well,—

Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master
O'the rolls, and the king's secretary ; further, sir,
Stands in the cap and trade of more prefeimenis,
Willi which tne time will load him : The arch-
bishop

Is the kind's nand, and tongue ; And who dare speak
One syllable against him i

Gar. Yes, yes, sir Thomas,

There are that dare ; and I myself have ventured
To speak my mind of him : and, indeed, this day.
Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think, I have
Incens'd the lords o'the council, that he is

244

KING HENRY VIII.

Act 5.

(For so I know he is, they know he is,)
A most avch heretick, a pestilence,
That does infect the land : with which they movedi
Have broken with the king ; who hath so far
Giren ear to our complaint, (of his great grace
And princely care; foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him,) he hath commanded,
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, sir ThoraaSj
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long : good night, sir Thomas.
ZOB. Many good nights, my lord ; I rest your
servant. ^Ea euni Gardiner and Pag*.

LOVELL is going out, enter the King; and
the Duke af SUFFOLK .
A". Hen, Charles, I will play no more to-night^
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
A". Hen. But little, Charles ;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.—
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news T

ioc. I could not personally deliver to her
What you comman ded me, but by her woman
I sent your message ; who returu'd her thanks
In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your high-
ness,

Most heartily to pray for her.

K.Hen. VVhat say'st thou ? ha ?
To pray for her? what, is she crj'ing out?

Loo. So said her woman ; and that her suffer-
ance made
Almost each pang a death.

K. Hen. Alas, good lady !

Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and
With gentle travail, to the gladdiitg of
Your Sighiiess with an heir !

K.Hen. *Tis midnight, Charles,

Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone ;
For I must think of that, which company
Will not be friendly to,

Suf. I wish your highness

A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

K.Hsn. Charles, good night.—

\F.xit Suffolk.

Sc. 1. KING HENRY VHI. 245

Rnter Sir ANTHONY DENNY.

Well, sir, what follows ?

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the archhishop,
As you commanded me.

K-Ihn. Ha! Canterbury?

Den. Ay, my good lord.

K.lhn. Tis true: Where is he, Denny!

Den. He attends your highoess* pleasure.
K.Hen. Brin^ him to us.

\_kxit Dcnnjf-

Lov. This is about that which the bishop spake;
I am happily come hither. {Aside.

Re-enter DENNY uitfi CRANMER,
A'. Hen. Avoid the gallery.

{Lovei/ seetns to stcof.

Ha! — I have said.— Be gone.

What! — \Excunt Loveli and Denny.

Cran. I am fearful : — ^NVheveforc frowns he thus ?
*Tis his aspCxt of terror. All's not well.

K. Hen, How now, my lord I You do desire to
know

Wherefore t sent for you.

Cran. It is my duty

To attend your highness' pleasure.

A. Hen. 'Pray you, arise.

My good and f^iacious lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn tokjether;
I have news to tell you : Come, come, give me your
hand.

Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak.

And am ri«ht sorry to repeat what follows :

I have, and most unwillingly, of late

Hesrd many grievous, I do say, my lord.

Grievous complaints of you ; whichjbeingconsider'd,

Hiive movM us and our council, that you shall

Tills niorninit come before us ; where, I know.

You c:inuot with such freedom purgt; yourself.

But that, till further trial, in those charges

« htch will require your answer, you must take

Your ualieuce to you, and be well contented

To matce your house our Tower : You a brother of us,

It fils we thus proceed, or else no witness

A\ ould com« agaiust you.

CrtiH. I humbly thank your highness;

And am right glad to catch, this good occasion

246 KING HENRY VIII. Act 5.

Most throughly to be winnow'd, where ray chaff
And corn shall fly asunder : for, I know,
There's none stands under more calumnious tongueSj
Than^ I myself, poor man.

A". Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury;

Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted
In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up;
Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame,
"What manner of man are you i My lord, I look'd
You would have given me your petition, that
I should have ta'eu some pains to bring together
Yourself and your accusers ; and to have heard you
Without induraiice, further.

Cran. Most dread lieg«.

The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty ;
If they shall fail, T, with mine enemies.
Will triumph o'er my person ; which I weigh not,
Being of those virtues vacant- I fear nothing
What can be said against me.

K, Hen. Know you not how

Your state stands i'the world, with the whole world?
Your enemies

Are many, and not small ; their practices
Must bear the same proportion : and not ever
The justice and the truth o'the question carries
The due o'the verdict with it: At what ease
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you : such things have been done.
You are potently oppos'd ; and with a malice
Of as p;reat size. Ween you of better luck,
I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he llv'd
Upon this naughty earth 7 Go to, go to ;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger.
And woo your own destruction.

Cran. God, and your majesty,

Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me!

A. Hen. Be of good cheer;

They shall no more prevail, than we give way to.
Keep comfort to you ; and this morning see
You do appear before them : if they shall chance.
In charging you with matters, to commit you.
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties
Will render you no remedy, this ring

Sc. 2.

KING HENRY Vlir.

247

Deliver them, and your appeal to us
There make liefi re them. — Look> the good man
weeps !

He's honest, on mine honour. God*s blest mother !
I swear, he is true-hearted ; and a soul
None better in my kingdom. — Get you gone,
And do R8 I have bid you. — \_EiU Cranmer.'\ He

has strangled
His language in his tears.

Enter an old Lady.

Gent. Ui^thin.} Comeback; What mean you?

Ladtf. I'll not come back ; the tidings, thiit I bring.
Will make my boldness manners. — Now, good angels
Fly o'er ihy royal head, and shade thy person
Under their blessed wings !

A'. Hen. Now, by thy looks

I guess thy message. Is the queen aeliver'd!
Savj ay ; and of a boy.

Ladtf. Ay, aT, my liege ;

And of a lovely boy : The Goi of heaven
Both now and ever bless her! — ' Tis a gii'li
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger ; 'tis a? like you.
As cherry is to cherry.

A'. Hen. Lovell, —

Enter LOVELL.
Ixiv. Sir.
A". Hen. Give her an hundred marks, ni to the
queen. \_Kxit Kini(.

Ladt) An hundred marks! By this light, I'll
have more.
An ordinary groom is for such payment.
I will have more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this, the girl is like to him !
1 will have more, or else unsay't ; and now
While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue, \_E.reunt.

SCENE IL
Lobbj/ be/ore the council-chamber.
Enter CRANMER ; Servants, Door-keeper, t^-c.
attending.

Crnn. I hope, I am not too late; and yet th«
gentleman.

248

KING HENRY VIII.

Act $.

That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me
To make great haste. All fast r what means this f
— Hoa?

Who waits there ? Sure, you know me ?

D. Keep. Yes, my lord ;

But yet I cannot help you.

Cran. Why?

D. Keep. Your grace must wait, till you be
call'd for.

?:nter Doctor BUTTS.

Cran. So.

Butts, This is a piece of malice. I am glad,
I came this way so happily : The king
Shall understand it presently. \E.rU Bails.

Cran. [^side.'^ 'T\s Butts,

The king s physician ; As he past along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!
Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace ! For certain.
This is of pui-pose lay'd by some that hate me,
(God tuni their hearts ! I never sought their malice,)
To quench mine honour : they would shame to
make me

Wait else at door ; a fellow counsellor,

Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their

pleasures

Must be fulfiU'd, and I attend with patience.
Enter at a trindow above, the King and BUTTS.
Butts. I'll shew your grace the stranp;est sight, —
K. Men. What's that. Butts ?

Butts. I think, your highness saw this many a
day.

K. Hen. Body o'me, where is it ?

Butts. There, my lord :

The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury;
Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants,
Pages, and footboys.

K.JJen. Ha! 'Tis he, indeed :

Is this the honour they do one another?
*Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought.
They had parted so much honesty among themj
(At least, good manners,) as not thus to suflfer
A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures.
And at the door too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there s knavery :

Sc. 2. KING HENRY Till. 249

Let them alone, and draw the cuitain close;

We shall hear more anon. — [Ej«tint.
The a>a,ncil- chamber.

Eater the Lord Chuncellor, Duke of SUFFOLK
Duke of NORFOLK, F.ari tf/SlTRUEY, Lord
Ckanibcrimn>G\RT>\ NER, onrfCROMWKLL.
The Chancellor places kirnself at the upper end of
tie table on the left hand ; a seat deinir left foid
above him, as for the Archbishop of Canterbury,
The rest seat themselves in order on each side.
CROM WELL at the lower end, rts secretary.
Chan. .Speak to the business, master secretary:

Why are we met in council T

Please your honours.

The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.
Oar. Has he had knowledge of it!
Crom, Yes.
^\ Who waits there t

D. Keep. Without, my noble lords f

Yes.

D. Keep. My lord archbishop ;

Aud hn8 done half an hour, to know your pleahures.
Chan. Let him come in.

D. Keep. Your grace may enter now.

[Cranmer approaches the council- table.

Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry
To sit here at this present, and behold
That chair stand empty : But we all are men.
In oui own natures frail ; and capable
Of our flesh, few are angels : out of which frailty,
And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us.
Have misdemean*d yourself, aud not a little.
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
The whiile realm, by your teaching and your
chaplains,

[For so we are infoi-m'd,) n-ith new opinions,
Bivers, and dimi;erous; which are heresies,
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.

Gar. Whicb reformation must be sudden too.
My noble lords : for those that tame wild horses,
race them not in their hands to make them gentle ;
But slop their mouths with stubborn bits, and

spur them.
Till they obey the manace. If we suffer
(Out of our easiness, and childish pity
To one man's honour) this contagious sickness.

250 KING HENRY VIII. Act 5.

Farewell, all pbysiA : And what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a t;eiieval taint
Of the whole state : as, of Iftte days, our neighbours.
The upper Gevmany, can dearly witness.
Yet freshly pitied in our memories-
Craw. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress
Both of my life and office, I have labour'd,
And with no little stndy, that my leaching.
And the strong course of my authority,
Might go one way, and safely ; and the end
Was ever, to do well : nor is there living
(I speak it with a single heart, my lords,)
A man, that more detests, more stirs against.
Both in his private conscience, and his place,
Defacers of a pubUclc peace, than I do.
'Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
"With less allegiance in it ! Meu, that make
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment.
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships.
That, in this case of justice, my accusers.
Be what they will, may stand forth" face to face.
And freely urge agaius* me.

Suf. Nay, my lord.

That cannot be ; you are a counsellor.
And, hy that virtue, no man dare accuse you.
'Gar. My lord, because we have business of more
moment.

We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness'
pleasure, '

And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower ;
Where, being but a private man again.
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly.
More than, I fear, you are provided for.

Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank
you,

You are always my good friend ; if your will pass,
I shall both fiod your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful ■ I see your end,
'Tis my undoing : Love, and meekness, lord.
Become a churchman better than ambition ;
Win straying souls with modesty again.
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more.
But reverence to your calling makes me modest.

Sc.2. KING HENRY VIU. S5I

! Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary.
That s the plain truth ; your paiuted gloss discovers.
To men that understand you, words and weakness.

Crtitn. My lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too sharp ; men bo noble.
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what tlicy have been : 'tis a ciucliy.
To load a falling man.

Good master secretary,
1 cry your honour mercy j you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.

f/f""- Why, my lord?

dar. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ye ai-e not sound.

, Not sound r

Itar. r\Qt sound, I say.

CroiB. 'Would you were half so honest!

Men s prayers then %vould seek you, not their fears.
Oar. I shall i-emember ibis bold languace.

n^™*"- Do.
Remember your bold life too.

, This is too much :

Forbear, for shame, my lords.

I have done.
i?""- And I.

Ikan. I hen thus for you, my lord,— It stands
agreed,

I take it, by all voices, that forthwith
lou be convcy'd to the Tower a prisoner ;
There to remain, till the king's further pleasure
Be known unto us : Are you all agreed, lords f
All. We are.

Cran. Is there no other way of niei-cy.

But I must needs to the Tower, my lords ?
./«r- . What other

» ould you expect ? \ ou are strangely troublesome.
Let some o'the guard be ready there.

Enter Guard.

u*^'""?- Forme?
Must I go like a traitor thither?

Receive him.

And see him safe i'the Tower.

1 , Stay, good ray lords,

I bive a little yet to say. Look there, my lords :
By virtue of that ring. I take my cause
**iit of the gripes of cruel men, and give it

252 KING HENRY Till. Act 5.

To a most noble judtie, the king ray master.

Cham. This is the king's ring.

SuT. *Tis no counterfeit.

Stif. 'Tis the right ring, hy heaven : I told ye all,
When we first put this dangerous stone a rolling,
*Twould fall upon ourselves.

A'or. Do you think, my lords.

The king will suffer hut the little finger
Of this man to be vexM ?

Cham. Tis now too certain :

How much more is his life in value with him ?
'Would I were fairly out on't.

Crom. My mind gave me,

In seeking tales, and informations,
Against this man, (whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at,)

Ye blew the fire that bums ye i Now have at ye. ,
Enter King, frowning on them ; takes his setit. j
Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound
to heaven j
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ;
Not only good and wise, but most religious :
One that, in all obedience, makes the church
The chief aim of his honour ; and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.

K,Hen. You were ever good at sudden com- ^
mendations,
Bishop of Winchester. Bu» know, I come not
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence ;
They are too thin aud base to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel.
And think with wagging uf your tongue to win me ;
But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure,
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody. —
Good man, [2b Crammer. sit down. Now let I

me see the proudest
He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:
By all that's holy, he had better starve.
Than but once think his place becomes thee not.
Sur. May it please your grace, —
K. Hen. No, sir, it does not please me.

I had thought, I had had men of some under-
standing

And wisdom, of my council \ but I find none.

9c.i. KING HENRY Vixr. 25?

Wis it discretion, lords, to let this man.

This good wan, (few of you deserve that title.)

Tbs honest man, wait like a lowsy footboy

Aichnmber door? and one as great as you are'

Why, what a shame was this ? Did my commiss'ioft

Bid ye so fur forget yourselves? I gave ye

Power as he was a counsellor to try him.

Not as a groom ; There's some of ye, 1 see,

More out of malice than integrity,

VVould try him to the utmost, had ye mean :

H hich ye shall never have, while 1 live.

^^f"- Thus far

My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace *
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd
Concenung his imprisonment, was i-ather
(If there be faith in men) meant for his trial.
And fair purgation to the world, than malice :
J am sure, in nie.

A'.//(n. Well, well, my lords, respect him :
lake him, and use him well, he's worthy of it.
I will say thus much for him, If a prince
May be beholden to a subject, I
Am, for his love and service, so to him.
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him ;
Be friends, for shame, my lords.— My lord of Can-
terbury,

Ihftve a suit which you must not deny me;

That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism>

lou must be godfather, and answer for her.

Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory
In such an honour ; H ow may I deserve it.
That am a poor and humble subject to you ?

h.Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your
spoons ; you shall have
Ttrc noble partners %vith you; the old duchess of
Norfolk,

And lady marquis Dorset ; WUl these please you ?
Unce more, my lord of Winchester, X charge you,
tmbrace, and love this man.-
. ^J'!'- With a true heart.

And broiher-love, I do it.
„f"'"- And let heaven

nitness, how dear I hold this confirmation.
A. Jfen. Good man, those joj-ful tears show thy
true heart.

The common voice, I see, is verified ^
thee, which says thus. Do my iQrd of Cmit*b*v»

KING HENRY VIII. Act 5.

A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever. —
Come, lords, we trifle time away; 1 long
To have this young one made a Christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain ;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.

{Ea'eunt.

SCENE III.
The Palace ynrd.
NoiSe and tumult within. Enter Porter and
his Man.

Port. Youll leave your noise anOn, ye rascals s
Do you take the court for Paria-garden ? ye rude
slaves, leave your gaping.

X.fVitkin.'l Good master porter, I belong to the
larder.

Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you
Togue : Is this a place to roar in? — Fetch me a
dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones ; tliese are
but switches to them. — 1*11 scratch your heads:
You must be seeing christenings? Do you look fot
ale and cakes here, yon rude rasciila ?

Man. Pray, sir, be patient ; 'tis as much impos-
sible

(Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons)
To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep
On May-day morning ; which will never be :
We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them.

Port. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Man. Alas, I know not; How gets the tide iai
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.

Port. You did nothing, sir.

Man. I am not Sampson, nor sir Gay, nor Col-
brand, to mow them down before me : but, if I
spared any, that had a head to hit, either young or
old, he or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me
never hope to see a chine again ; and that I would
not for a cow, God save her.

\fFithin.'\ Do you hear, master Porter?

Port. I shall be with you presently, good master
puppy, — Keep the door close, sirrah.

Man. What would you liave me do?

Port. What should you do, but knock them down
by th« dozens? Is this Moorfields to muatcr in f or

Sc.S. KINO HJBNRY VIII. %oi

have we some stfange Indian n-ith the great tool
Come to court, (lid women so besiege us ? JBless mc,
what a fry of fbraicatiLon is a: door ! ou my Christian
conscience, this one christeoiug will beget a thou-
sand : here wiU be iuthcr, godfather, and aU toge-
ther.

Afan. The spoons will lie the bigger, sir. There
IB a fellow Komewhat near the door, he should be a
brazier by his face, for, o'my conu:ience, twenty of
the dog-uays now reign in's nose; all that stand
about him are under the line, they need no other
penance : That fire-drp.ke did 1 hit three times on
the head, and threu times was his nose discharged
aeainut me ; he stands thei-e, like a mortar-piece, to
blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small
wit near him, that railed upon me till her pink'd
porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a
coml)tistioii in the state. I miss'd the meteor once,
and hit that woman, who cried out, dubs .' when I
mieht sec from far some forty truncheoueers draw
to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand,
wher« she was quartered. They fell on; I mad«
good my place ; at length they came to the broom-
staff with me, I defied them still; when suddenly
a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered
sucl» a shower of pebbles, that I wrs fain to draw
mine honour in, and let them win the work : Th«
devil was amongst them, I think, surely.

Port. These are the youths that thunder at a
play-bouse, and fight for bitten apples ; that no
audience but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the
limbs of Limehouse, their dear bi-others, are able
to endure. I have some of them in Limbo fatrum,
and there they are like to dance these three days ;
besides the running banquet of two beadles, that is
to come.

Enter tkff Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are here!
They grow still too, from all parts they are coming.
As if we kept a fair here ! Where are these porters.
These laz-y knaves T— Ye have made a fine hand,
fellows.

There's a trim rabble let in : Are all these
Your faithful friends o'ihe suburbs ? We shall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the Udiee*
Whon tliey pass back from tha ctristcninf .

SSe KING HENRY VIlI. Act 5.

Port. An't please your honour

We are but men ; and what so many may do,
Not being torn a pieces, we have done :
An army cannot rule them.

Cham. As I live,

If the king blame me for't, I*U lay ye all
By the heels, and suddenly ; and on youi- heads
Clap round fines, for neglect : You are lazy knaves ;
And here ye lie baiting of bumbards, when
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound;
They are come already from the christening :
Go, break among the press, and find a way out
To let the troop pass fairly ; or I'll find
A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two
months.

Port. Make way there for the princess.

Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll
make your head ake.

Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail ; I'll
pick you o'er the pales else. [^Exeunt.

SCENE IV.
The Palace.

Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen,
Lord Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, Duke o/NOR-
FOLK, with Ms marshal's staff, Duke of SUF-
FOLK, two Noblemen bearing great standing-
bowls for ike christening gifts ; then four Noble-
men bearing a canopy, under which the Duchess
of NORFOLK, godmother, bearing the child richly
habited in n mantle, ^c. Train borne by a Lady:
then follows the Marchioness o/DORSE V, the other
godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about
the stage, and Garter speaks.
Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send
prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high
and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth !

Flourish. Enter King and Train.
Cran. {^Kneeling.'] And to your royal grace, acd
the good queen.
My nohle partners, and myself, thus pray ; —
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady.
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy.
May hourly fall upon ye !
A. ffea. Thank yoa, good lord archbishop:

Sc. 4. K4NG HENRY VIH. 267

What is her name I
Cran. EUzabeth.

^^n- Stand up, lord.—

w !..».-,■ , ^^"S ****** '^f ^''ild-

W ith this kiss take my blessing : God protect thee '
Into whose hands I give thy life.

P""; , Amen.

A. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too
prouifal :

I thank ye heartily ; so shall this lady,
"When she has bo much English.
„ Cran. Lot me speak, sir,

i-or Heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
JLet none think flattery, for they'll find them truth,
rius royal infant, (heaven still move about her !)
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
Which Ume shall bring to ripeness: She shall bo
(But few now living can behold that goodness)
A pattern to all princes liviuj; with her,
And all that shall succeed : Sheba was never
More covetous of \visdom, and fair virtue.
Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is.
With all the virtues that attend the good.
Shall still be doubled on her : truth shall nurse her.
Holy and heavenly thouehts still counsel her :
She shall bo lovM, and fear'd : Her own shall
bless liei- :

Her foes shake like a field of beaten com,
And hang their heads with sorrow : Good grows
with her :

In her days, every man shall eat in safety
Under his own vine, what he plants ; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours :
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of hoiuiur.
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Aor shall this peace sleep with her : But as when
1 he bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoeuii.
Her ashes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as herself ;
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of
darkness,)

Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
bhftH star-like rise, as great iu fame as she was,

25S KING HENRY Vin. Act 5.

And so stMd fi:.'d: Peace, plenty, love, truth,

That were°the servants to this chosen intot.
aCrilThenbe his. and like a vine grow to him;
f^herev:?.he b^ht s„„ »« heaven shaU shvu.,
His honour and the greatness of "Sf flottrish.
Shall he, and maie new Xs
And. like a mountain cedar, reach >"»

all the plains about him: Onr children s

children

S»f - "^h'o'n-speakest wonde«.

A^kfi^cli^rn^^^^t^x^s.^-:,

She must, the saints must have her ; yet a v.rgm,

^o"r;rru?Xa^A''s"--^^^^^^^^^

Til'i^st I'd-l'mTtraTan ; never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing
This ora'Se of comfort has so fef ^^',3
That, when I am in heaven, ' _
To see what this child does, and P™»= "J- f^^"'
T .hank ve all,— To you, my good lord mayor.
And your .ood hre.hren. I am much beholden ;
fhavl rec?iVd much honour by y"- P«»«'«;
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the nay,

V, mn'sTtll'^e the queen, and she must thank ye,
jLZ^n be iick else'. This *ay. ■» .^an <hmk
He has business at his house ; for all '"aU stay.
This little one shall make it holiday. [tieunl.

EPILOGUE.

•Tis ten to one, this play "XlTease.
All that are here : Some come » take A";!"''

All that are nere : com« -•- ■- -

And sleep an act or two ; but those, we fear.
We have frighted with our trumpets 1 so tis c eat,
They'll say, 'tis naught: others, '» Jlf;
Ahus'd extremely, and to e'T',-"'',^, l7ear
Which we have not done ue«l|er : I fe«.

Sc. 4.

KING HENRY vril.

259

For this play at this time, is only in

The merciful coustruction of good women ;

For such a one we show'd them ; If they smile.

And say, 'twill do, I know, within a while

All the best men are ours: for 'tis ill hap,

If they hold, when their ladies bid them dap.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

PRIAM, king of Troy:
HECTOR,
TROILUS, /

DEIPHOBUS, V
HELENUS, }
^N™n6r ^ Trojan commanders.
CALCHAS,'a Trojan priest, taking part with the

PANDARUS, uncle to Cressida.
MARGARELON, a tastard son of Priam.

AGAMEMNON, the Grecian general :
MENELAOS, his brother.
ACHILLES, x
AJAX, i

DIOMEDES, >
PATROCLUS, „ .

THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.
ALEXANDER, servant to Cressida.
Servan* to Trollus ; Servant to Paris ; Servant to
Diomedes.

HELEN, wife to Menelaus.
ANDROMACHE, wife to Hector.'
CASSANDRA, daughter to Priam; a prophetesi.
CRESSIDA, daughter to Calchas.

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants,

Scats,— Tny, and the Grecian Camp liefore it.

PARIS,

ULYSSES,
NESTOR,

Grecian commanders.

T.re.fipiii2. , T.'.Mi.te

Act 5. Sc. S.

ruSlislied ■c7V4ru:tefLHgr57.Cliai:cer7 Lane V824

TROILUS AND CRESSI0A.

PROLOGUE.

In Troy, there lies the «cene. From isles of Greece
The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf'd.
Have to (he port of Athens sent their ships.
Fraught with the ministers and instruments
Of cruel war: Sixty and nine, that wore
Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay
Put forth toward rhrygia : and their vow is made,
To ransack Troy ; within whose strong immures
The ravibh'd Helen, Menelaus' queen.
With wanton Paris sleeps ; And that's the quarrel.
To TenedoB they come;

And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge

Their warlike fraughtage : Now on Dardan plains

The fresh and yet unhruised Greeks do pitch

Their brave pavilions : Priam's six-gated city,

Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan,

And Antenorides, with massy staples.

And eorresponsive and fulfilling bolts,

Sperr up the sons of Troy.

^ow expectation, tickling skittish spirits^

On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,

Sets all on hazard: — And hither am I come

A prologue arm'd, — but not in confidence

Ofantlior's pen, or actor's voice ; but suited

In like conditions as our argument, —

To tell you, fair beholders, that our play

Leaps o er tho vaunt and firstlings of those broils,

'Ginning in the middle ; starting thence away

To what may he digested in a play.

Like, or find fault ; do as your pleasures are ;

Kow good, 01- bad, 'tis but the chance of war.

264 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Actl.

ACT I. SCENE I.
Troy. Before Priam's Palace.
Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS.
Tro. Call here my varlet, I'll unarm a^ain :
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
That find such cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan, that is master of his heart,
Let him to field ; Troilus, alas ! hath none.
Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended!
Tro. The Greeks ave strong, and skilful to their
strength.

Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant:
But I am weaker than a woman's tear.
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ii^norance ;
Less valiant than the virgin in the night.
And skill -less as unpractised infancy.

Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for
my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He,
that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry
the grinding.

Tro. Have I not tan-iedT

Pan. Ay, the grinding ; but you must tarry the
bolting.

Ttq. Have I not tarried ?

Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the
leavening.

Tro. Still ha*e T tarried.

Pan. Ay, to the leavening : but here's yet in the
word— hereafter, the kneading, the making of the
cake, the heating of the oven, and the bakmg; nay,
you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance
to burn your lips.

Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e er she be,
Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I sit ;
And when fair Cressid comes into mv thoughts,—

So, traitor !— when she comes ! When is she

thence?

Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer thaa
ever I saw her look, or any woman else.

Tro. I was about to tell thee,— When my heart.
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain ;
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have Cas when the sun doth light a storm)
Bury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile :

Sc. 1. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 265

But sorrow, that is coufh'd in seeming gladness.
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.

Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker
than Helen's, (well, go to,) there were no more
comparison between the women, — But, for my part,
she is my kinswoman ; I would not, as they term
it, praise her,— But I would somebody had heard
her talk yesterday, as I did. 1 will not dispraise
your sister Cassandra's wit ; but —

Tro. O Pandarus ! I tell thee, Pandarus,

When I do tell thee. There my hopes lie drown'd.
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
The^ lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Cressid's love : Thou answer'st. She is fair ;
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her pait, her voice -
Handiest in thy discourse, O, tha^t her hand, *
In whose comparison all whites are ink.
Writing their own reproach ; To whose soft seizure
The cyb'net's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman ! This thou tell'st
me,

As true thou tell'st me, when I say— I love her;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm.
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me,
Ihe knife, that made it.

Pa72. I speak no more than truth.

Trv. Thou dost not speak so much.

Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be
as she is : if she be fair, 'tis the better for her ; an
she be not, she has the mends in her Own hands.

Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus?

Pan. I have had my labour for my travel; ill-
thought on of her, and' ill-thought on of you : gone
between and between, but small thanks for my
labour.

7rt». What, art thoO angry, Pandarus T what,
with me ?

Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore, she's
not so fair as Helen : an she were not kin to me,
she would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on
Sunday. But what care HI care nor, an she were
a black-a-moor ; 'tis all one to me.

Tro. Say I, she is not fair ?

Pcm. I do not care whether you do or no. She's
a fool to stay behind her father ; let her to the
Greeks ; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her i

266 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Actl.
for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in the
matter.

JVo. Pandarus, —

Pan. Not I.

Tro. Sweet Pandarus,—

Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me ; i wiU
leave all as I found it, and there an end.

\^Exit Pandarus. An Alarum.
Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace,
rude sounds ! , . r •

Fools on both sides 5 Helen must needs be tair,
"When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument ;
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus— O gods, how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar ;
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo.
As she is stubborn- chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we f
Her bed is India ; there she lien, a pearl ;
Between our Ilium, and where she reaules.
Let it be called the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself, the merchant; and this sailing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
Alarum. Enter vENEAS.
Mne. How now, prince Troilus ? wherefore not
afield?

Tro. Because not there ; This woman's answer
sorts.

For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, jEneas, from the field to-day I

JSne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

Tro. By whom, J^hq&aI

_^ne. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Tro. Let Paris bleed : 'tis but a scar to scorn ;
Paris is gor'd ■with Menelaus' horn. {^Alarum.
JEne. Hark ? what good sport is out of town
to-day !

Tro. Better at home, if would I tmg/ii, were

But. toTfe sport abroad ;— Are you bound thither I
Mne. lu all swift haste,'

2Vo Coiie, go we then toi^ether.

\ \Exmnt.

Sc. 5. TROILCS AND CRESSIDA. Sg7

SCENE II.

7^c sitme. A strttt.

F.nttr CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER.

Cra. Who were those went by ?

iS'' .J ^, . He'ilM. aod Helen.

Cns. And wUther go they »

viji'"\ • I ''1"° '"^ eastern tower,

Whose heiKht commnnds as subject nil the rale,
ro sec the Iwttle. Hector, whose patience
Is, as J> virtue, 6x'd, to-day was mOT'd :
He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;
And, liVe as there were husbandry in war.
Before tlie sun rose, he was hamess'd light.
And to the field goes he ; where every flower
Uid, as a prophet weep, what it foresaw
In Hector's wrath.

, What was his cause of anfrer ?

v*/e.i. The noise goes, this: There is amon?the
Greeks '
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector:
iney call him, Ajax.

T, Good ; and what of him f

j^lex. I hey say ho is a very man per se.
And stands alone.
_ Cres, So do all men ; tmless they are drunk,
sick, or have no legs.

,^lex. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts
M their particular additions ; he is as valiant as the
lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant : a
man into whom nature hath so crowded humours,
trial his valour is crushed into folly, his folly
sauced with discretion : there is no man hath a
virtue, that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man
an attaint, but he carries some stain of it : he is
melancholy without canse, and merry against the
■lair : He hath the joints of every thing; but every
thing so out of joint, that ho is a gouty Briareus,
many hands and no use ; or purblind Argus, all
eyes and no sight. ' r » •

Cres. But how should this man, that makes mo
smile, make Hector angry ?

■^['■'■- They say, he yesterday coped Hector in
the battle, and struck him down ; the disdain and '
L d°'ak' ""^ hath ever since kept Hector fisting

268 TROILDS AND CRESSIDA.. Act 1.
Enter- PANDARUS.

Crjs. Who comes here?

Alel-. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.

Ores. Hector's a gallant man.

AUx. As may be in the world, lady.
Pan. What's that 7 what's that ?

Ores. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Pan Good morrow, cousin Cress d ; What no
you tik of ?-Good morrow, Alexander -How do
you, cousin! When were you at Ilium T

Cres. This morning, uncle. ,

Pan. What were you talking of, when I came!
W™ Hector arm'd, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium !
Hplpn was not uo, was she 1

Cr« Hector was gone ; but Helen was not up.

Pan. E'en so; Hector was stirrmg efly-

Cm. That weU wo talking of, and of his anger.

Pan. Was he angry !

Cret. So he says here.

Pan True, he%vas so ; I know the cause too

hell lay about him to-day, 1 can tell them that.

»nd tSe is Troilus will iiot come far behind h.m ;

S them tie heed of Troilus; I can tell them

that too. -

Cres What, is he angry too r

Pan. Who, Troilus !\railus is .the better man

"^Crl^O," Jupiter! there's n»,':»."I'»"™°-„„„,„ ,
pZ. What, not between Troilus and Hector.
Do you know a man, if yon see him .

Cres. Ay ; if I e»er saw him before, and knCTr

""pon Well. I say, Troilua is Troilus.

te. Thell'youTay as 1 say ; for, I am sure, h.

" Jl.^No! nor Hector is not Troilus. in some de-

*"c«s 'Tis iust to each of them ; he is Wmjelf.

ptn. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus ! I would, he
were, •

fS,: —'Condition, I had gone bare-foot t.
India.

Cres. He is not Hector. iWnuld
Pan. Himself? no. he's not himself.- Wouia
•a were himself! Well, the gods aie aboye ; Tune

Sc. 2. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 269

must friend, or end. Well, Troilus, well, — I would,
my heart were in her body ! — No, Hector is not a
better man than Troilus.

Cres. Excuse me.

Pan. He is elder.

Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan. The other's not come to't; you shall tell
me another tale, when the other a come to'*.
Hector shall not have his wit this year.

Cres. He Hhall not need it, if he have his own.

Pan. Nor his qualities;

Crts. No matter.

Pan. Nor his t>eauty.

Cres. ' Twould not become him, his own's better.

Pan. You have no judgment, niece : Helen her-
self swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown
favour, (for so 'tis, I must confess,) — Not bronrH
neither.

Cres. No, but brown.

Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brow«.
Cres. To say the truth, true and not Irne.
Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris.
Cres. Wliy, Paris hath colour enough.
Pan. So he has.

Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much ; if
she prnised him above, his complexion is higher
than His; lie having colour enough, and the otlier
higher, is too ^^amin^ a praise for a good com-
plexion. I had as lief, Helen's golden tongue had
commended Troilus for a copper nose,

/'««. 1 swear to you, I think, Helen loves him
better than Paris.

Cres. Then she's a merry Greelc, indeed.

Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to
him the other day into a compass'd window, — and,
you know, he has not past threo or four liairs ou
bis chin.

Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetick may soon
bring his particulars therein to a total.

Pan. Why, he is very young: and yet will he,
within three pound, lift as much as his brother
Hector.

Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter T
Pari. But, to prove to you, that Helen loves him ;

— abe came, and puts me her white hand to his

cloven chin,— — ■

Cres. Juno have mercy! — How came it cloren!
134

270 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act I.

. Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I' think,
his smiling becomes him better than any man in
all Phryfjia.

Cres. O, he smiles valiantly.
Pan. Does he not?

Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in aittumn.

Pan. Why, go to then:— But to prove to you
that Helen loves Troilus,

Cres. Troilus will stand to the proofj if you'll
prove it so.

Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more
than I esteem an addle egi?.

Cres. If you love an addle ep(; as well as you love
an idle head, you would eat chickens i'the shell.

Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how
she tickled his chin ; — Indeed, she has a marvellous
white hand, I must needs confess.

Cres, Without the rack.

Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair
on his chin.

Cres. Alas, poor chin ! many a wai t is richer.

Pan. But, there was such laughing Queen
Hecuba laugKed, that her eyes ran o'ev.

Cres. With mill-stones-

Pan. And Cassandra laughed.

Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under
the pot of her eyes Did her eyes run o'er too ?

Pan. And Hector laughed.
. Cres. At what was all this laughing?

Pun. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied
on Troilus' chin.

Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have
laughed too.

Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair, as
at his pretty answer.

Cres. What was his answer ?

Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty kairs on
your chin, and one of them is white.

Cres. This is her question.

Ptin. That's true; make no question of that.
One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white i That
tohite hair is iny father, and all the rext are hi.'; sons.
Jupiter.' quoth she, which of these hairs is Parts tny
husband 9 The forked one, quoth he ; pluck it out,
and give it him. But, there was such laughuig.
and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all
aic rest so laughed, that it pass'd.

Sc. 2. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

271

Cres. So let it now ; for it has been a. great while
going by.

Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday ;
think oii't.

Cres. So 1 do.

Pan. I'll be sworn, 'tis true ; he will weep you.
All 'txvere a m;in bom in April.

Crex. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere
a nettle aeuinst May. [j4 retreat sounded.

Pan. Hark, they are coming from the field :
Shall wo stand up here, and see them, as they
pass toward Ilium ! good niece, do ; sweet niece
Cressida.

Cres, At your pleasure.

Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place ; here
we may see most bravely : I'll tell you them all
by their names, as they pass by ; but mark Troilua
above the rest.

^NEAS passes over tie stage.
Cres. Speak not so loud.

Pan. That's /Eneas ; Is not that a brave man?
he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you ;
But mark Troilus: you shall see anon.

Cres. Who's that ?

AXTENOR passes over.

Pan. That's Antenor; he has a shrewd wit, I
can tell you ; and he's a man good enough : he'a
one o'the soundest judgments in Troy, whosoever,
and a proper man of person : — When comes Troilus?
— I'll show you Troilus anon; if he see me, you
shall see him nod at me.

Cres, Will he give you the nod?

Pan, You shall see.

Cres. If he do, the rich shall have more.
HECTOR passes over.

Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that;
There's a fellow! — Go thy way. Hector; — There's
a bravo man, niece. — O brave Hector ,' — Look, how
he looks! there's a countenance: Is't not a brave
man ?

Cres. O, a brave man !

Pan. Is 'a not.' It does a man's heart good —
Look you what hacks are on his helmet t look you
j-ouder, do you see ? look you there ! There** no

272 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, Act 1.

jesting: there's laying on; talce't off who willj as
they say: there be hacks !

Cres. Be those with swords 1

PARIS paf-ses over.
Pan. Swords? any thin^, he cares not: an the
devil come to him, it's all one : By god's lid, it
does one's heart good :— Yonder comes Pavis, yon-
der comes Paris ; look ye yonder, mece ; Is t not
a gallant man too, is't not .'—Why, this is hrave
now.— Who said, he came hurt home to-day? he s
not hurt : why, this will do Helen's heart good
now. Ha! 'would I could see Troilus now !— you
shall see Troilus anon.
Cres. Who's that ?

HELENUS passes over.

Pan. That's Helenus,— I marvel, where Troilus
is:— That's Helenus;— I think he went not forth
to-day: — That's Helenus.

Cres. Can Helenus fight, uncle 7

Pan. Helenus? no ;— yes, he'll fight indifferent
well :— I marvel, where Troilus is !— Hark ; do you
not hear the people cry, Troilus ?— Helenus is a
priest.

Cres. "What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
TROILUS passes over.

Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus : 'Tis
Troilus ! there's a man, niece !— Hem !— BraTfi
Troilus ! the prince of chivalry '

Cres. Peace, for shame, peace!

Pan. Mark him ; note him ;— O brave Troilus.
—look well upon him, niece; look you, ho%v his
sword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than
Hector's: and how he looks, and how he goes !—
O admirable youth ! he ne'er saw three and twenty.
Go thy way Troilus, go thy way ; had I a sister
were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he shoma
take his choice. O admirable man ! Paris ^— Pans
is dirt to him ; and, I warrant, Helen, to change,
would give an eye to boot.

Forces pass over the stage.
Cres. Here come more.

Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chatt
and bran ! porridge after meat ! I could lir« and die

So. 2. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 273

i'the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look ; the
eagles are gone ; cro%vs and daws, crows and daws !
I had rather he such a man as I'roilus, than Aga-
memnon and all GrAece.

Cres. There is iimong the Greeks^ Achilles; a
better man than Tmilus.

Pan, ArhiUe<i a dnivrnan, a porter, a very camel.

Cres. Well, well.

Pan. Well, welH — Why, have you any discre-
tion ? have you any ryes f Do yuu Vnuvr what a man
is! U not birth, heauty, f{ood shape, discourse,
manhood, learnini;, gentleness, virm.', youth, li-
berality, and such like, the spice and salt that
season a man T

Cfts. Ay, a minced man : and then to be baked
with no date in the pye, — for theu the man's date
is out.

Pan . You are !>uch a woman ! one knows not at
what ward yuu lie.

Cres. Upon my b:ick, to defend my belly ; upon
my wit, to defend my wiles ; and upon my secrecy,
to defend mine honesty ; my mask, lo defend my
beauty ; and you. to def«nd all these : and at ail
these wards 1 lie, at a thousand \vatche8.

Pun. >iay onn of your watches.

Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's
one of the chiefest of them too ; if I cannot ward
what I would not have hit, I can watch you for
telliiii; how I took the blow ; unless it swell past
hiding, and then it is past watching.

Pan. You are such another !

Enter Troilus.' Boy.
Boy. Sir,TOy lord would instantly speak with yoa.
Pan. Where?

Boy. \l your own house ; there he unarms him.
Pan. iiooA boy, tell him I come: [_Exit Boy."]
I doubt, be be hurt. — Fare ye well, good niece.
Cres. .Adieu, uncle.

Pan. I'll he with you, niece, by and by.

Cres. To bring, uncle,

Pun. Ay, a token from Troilus,

Cres. By the same token — you are a bawd. —

\^Rxit Pimdarus.

Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full sacrifice.

He offers in another's euterpize :

But more iu Troilus thousand fold I see

274 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 1.

Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be ;
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wouing:
Things v.-on are douej joy's soul lies in the doing :
That she, belov'd, knows nought, that knows not
this, —

Men prize the thing, ungain'd, mor& than it is :
That she was never yet, that ever knew
Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue :
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach, —
Achievement is command : ungain'd, beseech :
Then, thoIi^h my heart*:, content firm love doth bear.
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. lEs it.

SCENE nr.

The Grecian camp. Before Agamemnon's tent.
Trumpets. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR,
GLVSSES, MENELAUS, and Others.

Agam. Princes,
What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks ?
The ample proposition, that hope makes
In all designs begun on earth below,
Fails in the promis'd largeness : checks and dis-
asters

Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ;
As knots, by the confltix of meeting sap.
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us,
That we come short of our suppose so far.
That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls stand ;
Sith every action, that^ath gone before.
Whereof we have record, trial did draw
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim.
And that unbodied figure of the thought.
That cav't surmised shape. Why then, you princes.
Do you with cheeks abash *d behold our works;
And think them shames, which are, indeed, nought
else

But the protractive trials of great Jove,

To find persistive constancy in men ?

The fineness of which metal is not found

In fortune's love : for then, the bold and coward.

The wise and fool, the artist and unread.

The hard and soft, seem all aflin'd and kin :

But, in the wind and tempest of her frown.

Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan.

Sc. 3. TROiLUS AND CRESSIDA.

275

Puffini; at all, winuows the light away ;
And what hath mass, or matter, by itself
Lies, rich iu virtue, and uiimiugled.

Sest. With due observance of thy godlike seat.
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall ap[*ly
Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance
Lies the true proof of men : The sea beinv ttmooth^
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
Upon hur patient breast, making their way
With those of nobler bulk f
But let the ruriiau Boreas once eiirafje
The gentle Tlieiis, and, anoii, behold
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountaiaa
cut,

Boiuidiug between the two moist elements.
Like Perseus* horse : Where's then the saucy boat.
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
Co-rival'd greatness? either to harbour fled.
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so
Doth valour's show, and valour's worth, divide^
In storms of fortune: For, in her ray and brightness.
The herd hath more annoyance by the brize.
Than by the tiger: but when the splitting wind
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,
And flies fled under shade, Why» then, the thiujj
of courage.

As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympalhixe.
And with an accent tuu'd in self-same key,
Koturns to chiding fortune.

l/lyss. ■ Agamemnon, —

Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,
Heart of our niunbers, soul and only spirit.
In whom the tempers and itv minds ot all
Should be shut up, — hear wliat Ulysses speaks.
Besides the applaiise and approbation
The which, — most mighty for thy place and sway, —
iTo .■fgamcmnon.
And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life, —
[7b .'Ve.itor,

1 give to both your speeches, — which wero such.
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece
Should hold uu high in brass ; and such again.
As venerable Nestor, hatcb'd in silver.
Should with a bond of air (strong as the axletree
On which heaven rides,) knit all the Greekish ears

Thou great, — and wise,— to hear Ulysses speak.

let it please both,—

376 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Aotl.

j^gatn. Speak, prince of Itbacaj and he't of less
expect

That matter needless, of importless burden.
Divide thy lips ; than we are confident.
When rank Thersites opes his mastiff jaws.
We shsill hear musick, wit, and oracle.

Ul^ss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down,
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master,
Kut for these instances.
The speciality of rule hath been neglected :
And, look, how many Grecian tents do stand
Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions.
When that the general is not like the hive,-
To whom the foragers shall all repair.
What honey is expected ! Degree being vizarded,
The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask.
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre,
Observe degree, priority, and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form.
Office, and custom, in all line of order:
And therefore is the glorious planet, Sol,
In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd
Amidst the other ; whose med'cinable eye
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,
And posts, like the commandment of a kinp.
Sans cheek, to good and bad: But, when tha
planets,

In evil mixture, to disorder wander,

AVhat plagues, and what portents ? what mutiny ?

What raging of the sea f shaking of earth?

Commotion in the winds ? frights, changes, horrors.

Divert and crack, rend and deracinate

The unity and married calm of stales

Quite from their fixture I O, when degree is shak'd.

Which is the ladder of all high designs.

The enterprize is sick! How could communities,

Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,

Peaceful commerce from dividable shores.

The primogenitive and due of birth,

Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels.

But by degree, stand in authentick place ?

Take but degree away, untune that string.

And, hark, what discord follows I eaoh thing meeta

In mere oppugnancy : The bounded waters

Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores.

And make a sop of all this solid globe :

fitvenglh should be lord of imbecility.

Sc. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 277

And the rude son should strilce his father dead :
Force should he rii;ht ; or. rather, rig^t and wrong,
(Betweeu whose endless jar iustice resides.)
Should lose their names, and so should justice too.
Then every thing includes itself in power,
power into \viW, will into appetite ;
I And appetite, ai> universal wolf,
I So douUly seconded with will and power,
jlust make perforce an universal prey.
And, last, cat up himself. Great Agamemnon,
This chaos, when degree is suitocatc.
Follows the choking.
And lliis neglection of dej^rec it is,
That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose
It hath to climb . The general's disdain'd
Fy him one step below ; be, by the next ;
Thiit next, by him beneath: so every step,
ETampled by the first pHce that is sick
Of his superior, grows to an envious fever
Of pale and bloodless emulation :
And *tis this fever that keeps Trfty on foot.
Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength.

Nest. Most wisely hath Ulysses hei-e discover'd
The fever whereof all our power is sick.

ylgitm. The natnro of the sicknesa found, Ulysses,
What is the remedy T

UlyfS. The great Achilles, — whom opinion crowns
The sinew and the forehand of our host, —
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
I Lies mocking our designs: With him, PatrOcluSj
L'pou a lazy bed the live-loug day
Breaks scurril jests ;
And with ridiculous and aukward action
(Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,)
He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,
Thy topless deputation he puts on :
And, like a strutting player, — whose conceit
Ijies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and sound
'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,—
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming
He acts tliy greatness in : and when he speaks,^
'Tis like a chime a mending ; with terms unsquar'd.
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd.
Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff.

37S TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act I.

The large Achilles, on liis piess'd hed lolling,

From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause;

Cries— Ea celle/it .'—'tis Agamemnon Just.—

Note play me Nestor ;~hem, and stroke thy beards

As he, being 'drest to some oration.

That's done ; — as near as the extremest ends

Of parallels; as like as Vulcan and his wife :

Yet good Achilles still cries. Excellent.'

"J'is Nestor right! Now play Mm me,. Patroclus,

firming to answer in a night alarm.

And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age

Must be the scene of mirth ; to cough, and spit.

And with a palsy- fumbling on his gorget.

Shake in and out the rivet: — and at this sport.

Sir Valour dies ; cries, O .'—enough. Patroclus,

Or give me ribs of steel ! I shall split all

In pleiisure of my spleen. And in this fashion.

All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,

Severals and generals of grace exact.

Achievements, plots, orders, preventions,

Excitements to the tield, or speech for truce.

Success, or loss, what is, or is not, serves

As stuff for these two to make paradoxes.

Nest, And in the imitation of these twain
(Whom, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice,) many are infect.
Ajax is grown self-will'd ; and bears his head
In such a rein, in full as proud a place
As broad Achilles : keeps his tent like him ;
Makes factious feasts ; rails on our state of war.
Bold as an oracle : and sets Thersites
(A slave whose nail coins slanders like a mint,)
To match us in comparisons with dirt ;
To weaken and discredit our exposure,
How rank soever rounded in with danger.

Ulyss. They tax our policy, and call it cowardice ;
Count wisdom as no member «f the war ;
Forestall prescience, and esteem no act
But that of hand : the still and mental parts, —
That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
When fitness calls them on ; and know, by measura
Qf their observant toil, the enemies' weight, —
Why, this haih not a finger's dignity ;
They call this— bed- work, mappery, closet-war:
So that the ram, that hatters dowi'i the wall,
For the great swin^ and rudeness of his poize,
'I*hey place before his h:\nd that made the engine;

Sc. 3. TKOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 27»

Or those, that witli the 6neness of their souls
*'t reason guide his execution.

'Nes(. Let this he trranted, and Achilles' horse
MaWes many Theii>' sons. {Trumpet souatla.

.■}gam. What trumpet ( look, Menelaus,

Enter /KNEAS.
Men. From Troy.

/jf/ata. What would you 'fore our lent?"

Mne. Is this

Great Agamemnon's tent, I pray I

^gnm. Even this.

^ne. May one, thut is a herald, and a prince.
Do a fair niossape to his kingly ears ?

^gam. With surely stronger than Achilles' arm
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice
Call Agamemnon head and general.

Mne. Fair leave, and large security. How raxj
A stranger to those most imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals T

^^am. How!

.^.ne. Ay;
I ask, thill 1 might -waken reverence.
And bid the i-heek be ready with a blush,
Modest as morning when she coldly eye*
Tlie youihful Phwbus :
Which is that god in office, guiding men?
Which is the iiigh and mighty Agamemnon?

^gam. This Trojaii scorns us ; or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.

-Entf. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd.
As bending angels ; that's their fame in peace :
But when they would seem soldiers, they have
galls,

Good arms, strong joints, true swords ; and, Jove s
accord.

Nothing so full of heart. But peace, jEneas,
Peace, Trojan ; lay thy finger on thy lips !
The worthiness of praise distains his worth.
If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth :
But what the repining enemy commends.
That hrealh fame follows; "that praise, sole pure,
transcends.

jigam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself iEneas ?
jEne. Ay, Greek, that is my name.
yfgam. What's your affair, I pray you?

Mnt. Sir, paidon j 'tis for Agamemnoa's ears*

280 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Actl.

Agam. He hears nought privately, that comes
from Troy.

j^ne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him :
I bring a trumpet to awalte his ear ;.
To set his sense on the attentive bent,
And then to speak.

Again. Speak frankly as the wlad;

It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour :
That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake.
He tells thee so himself.

j^ne. Trumpet, blow loud,

Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents
And every Greek of mettle, let him know.
What Troy means fairly, shall be spoke aloud.

\^7rumpst sounds.
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Tioy
A prince call'd Hector, {Priam is his father,)
Who in this dull and long-continued truce
Is rusty grown ; he bade me take a trumpet.
And to this purpose speak ; Kinjjs, princes, lords !
If there be one, among the fair'st of Greece,
That holds his honour higher than his ease;.
That seeks his praise mOre than he fears his peril;
That knows his valour, and knows not his fear ;
That loves his mistress more than in confession,
(With truant vows to her own lips he loves,)
And dare avow her beauty and her worth.
In other arms than hers, — to him this challenge.
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
.Shall make it good, or do his best to do it.
He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek did compass in his arms ;
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call,
Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy,
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love :
If any come. Hector shall honour him ;
If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires.
The Grecian dames are sun-buru'd, and not worth
The splinter of a lance. Even so much.

Agam. This shall he told our lovers, lord .ffineas ;
If none of them have soul in such a kind,
We left them all at home : But we are soldiers}
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is npt in love !
If then one is, or hath, or means to be.
That one meets Hector: if none else, I am he.

Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man

I

I Sc. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 281

When Hector's grandsire suckM : he is old now;
But, if there be not in our Grecian host
One noble mait, that hath one sp»rk of fire
To answer for his love, 'I'ell him from me, —
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver,
I And in my vanthrace put this wilher'd brawn ;

And, meeting him, will tell him, that my lady
I M"as fairer than his prandame, and as chaste
As may be in the world : His youth in flood,
' ''^^_P*'0'''* '^'^ truth with my three drops of blood.
I v»/i8. Now heavens forbid snch scarcity of youth !
I L'iyss. Amen.

^gam. Fair lord -"Eneas, let me touch your hand ;
Tc our pavilion shall I lead you, sir.
I Achille* shall have word of this intent;
I So shall each lord of Greece, from teut to tent:
Yourself shall feast with us before you go.
And find the welcome of a noble foe.
I all but Classes and Ntstor.

V/t/ss. Nestor, —
I Kest. What says Ulysses?

l/lyss. I have a young conception in my brain,
' Be you my time to bring it to some shape.
Acs(. What is't?
('It/ss, This 'tis :
j Blum wedges rive hard lcr»ots : Tlie seeded pride

That hath to this maturity blown up
j In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd.
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil.
To pverbulk us all.
Xest. AVell, and how ?

Vit/ss. This challenge, that the gallant Hector
sends,

I However it is spread in general name.
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.
Sest. The purpose is perspicuous even as sub-
stance.

Whose grossnecs little characters sum up :

And, in the publication, make no strain,

But that Achilles, were his brain as barren

As bunks of Libya,- — though, Apollu knows,

'Tis dry enough, — will with great speed of judgment.

Ay, with celerily, find Hector's purpose

Pointing on him.

Vlvf.F. And wake him to the answer, think you f
Af^f. Yes,
It is naost meel ; Whom may you else oppose,

282 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Actl.

That can from Hector bring those honours off.

If not Achilles? Though't l)e a sportful combat,

Yet in the trial much opinion dwells ;

For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute

Wiih their fiu'st palate : And trust to me, Ulysses,

Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd

In this wild action : for the success.

Although particular, shall give a scantling

Of gooi or bad unto the general ;

And in such indexes, although small pricl<s

To their subsequent volumes, there is seen

The baby figure of the yiant mass

Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd,

He, that meets Hector, issues from our choice:

And choice, being mutual act of all our souls.

Makes merit her election; and doth boil.

As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd

Out of our virtues ; Who miscarrying,

"What heart receives from hence a conquering part,

To steel a strong opinion to themselves?

Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments.

In no less working, than are swords and bows

Directive by the limbs,

Uli/ss, Give pardon to my speech ; —
Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares,
And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not.
The lustre of the better shall exceed,
By showinK the worse first. Do not consent.
That ever Hector and Achilles meet;
For both our honour and our shame, in this.
Are dogg'd with two strange followers.

Nest. I see them not with my old eyes; what are
they t

t//yss. "SVhat glory our Achilles shares fromHector,
Were he not proud, we all should share with him:
But he already is too insolent ;
And we were better parch in Africk sun,
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes.
Should he 'scape Hector fair: if he were foil'd,
"Why, then wc did our main opinion crush
Jn taint of our best man. No, make a lottery;
And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw
The sort to fighr with Hector ": Among ourselves,
Give him allowance for the hetl'er man.
For that will physick the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in loud applause ; ana make him fall

Sc. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSTDA.

2S3

His crest, that prouder than blue Iris liends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll dress him up in voices: If he fail.
Yet go we under our opinion slill.
That we have better men. But, hit or miss.
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes, —
Ajax, etnployM, plucks down Achilles' plumes.

Xest. Ulysses,
Xow I begin to relish thy advice;
And I will piv-o a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon; go we to him straight.
Two curs shall tame each other; Pride alone
Must tarre the mastiffs onj as 'twere their bone.

\_Exeuntt

ACT n. SCENE I.
Another part of the Grectan camp.
Enter AJAX and THERSITES.
j4jtty. Thersites,

Ther. Agamemnon — how if he had boils? full,

all over, generally \

yfjdx-. Thersites, *

Ther. And those boils did run ! — Say so, — did

■ot the general run then T were not that a botchy

core ?

Dog,

Tker. Then would come some matter from him ;
I see none now.

■^'W'. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not
hear? Feel then. \Strikes him.

Tier. 'ITie plague of Greece upon thee, thou
mongrel beef-witted lord !

^ax. Speak then, thou unsalted leaven, speak:
I'U beat ihee into handsomeness.

Tker. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holi-
ness : but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an
oration, than thou leavn a prayer without book.
Thou canst strike, canst thou ? a red murrain o'thy
jade's tricks 1

Ajax. Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation.

Ther. Dost thou think, I have no sense, thou
strikest me thus?

j4jax. The proclamation, —

Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.

AJttx. Do not, porcupine, do not ; my fineers llch*

Ther. I would thou didst itch from head to foot>

2S4 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 2.

and I had the scratching of thee ; I would make
thee the loathsomest scab in Greeca. When thoa
art forth In the incursions, thou strikest as slow as
another.

j4iax. I say, the proclamation, — —

Iher. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on
Achilles ; and thou art as full of envy at his great-
ness, as Cerberus is at f roserpiua's beauty, ay^
that thou barkest at him.

j4jii.v. Mistress Thersites !

7'her. Thou shouldst strike him.

j^jai-. Cobloaf!

T/ier. He would pun thee into shivers with his
fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.

You whoreson cur ! \_Beating hm.

fher. Do, do.

A]ax. Thou stool for a witch !

Tker. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord!
thou hadt no more brain than I have in mine
elbows ! an assinego may tutor thee : Thou scurvy
valiant ass! thou ait here put to thvash Trqians;
and thou art bought and sold among those of any
■wit, like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me,
I will begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by
inches, tliou thing of no bowels, thou !

Aja.v. You dog !

Ther. You scurvy lord I

y}i(U.\ You cur! [Beating kirn.

Ther. Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel;
do, do.

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.
Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do yott

How now, Thersites ? what*s the matter, man?
Thtr. You see him there, do you?
^chil. Ay; what's the matter?
Ther. Nay, look upon him.
Achil. So I do ; What's the matter?
Ther. Nay, but regard him well.
Achil. Well, why I do so.

Tker. But yet you look not well upon him : for,
whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.
Achil. I know that, fool.
Ther. Ay, but that fool know^ not himself.

Ther. Lo, lo> lo^ lo; what modicums of wit ht

thus ?

Sc. 1. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

utters! liis evasions have ears thus long. I have
bobbed his brain, more than he has beat my bones :
1 will buy nine sp:\rrows for a penny, and his pia
ranter ia not worth the ninth part of a sparrow.
This lord, Achilles. Ajax,— who wears his wit in
his belly, and his guu in his head,— I'll tell you
what I say of him.

^chiL What?

Titer. I say, this Ajax

Achil. Nay, good Ajax.

[W/iM- o^ers to strike him, Achilles interposes,

7'her. Has not so much wit — ~

j^chit. Nay, I must hold you.

Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, &r
M'hom he comes to fight.

j4ckil. Peace, fool !

Ther. 1 would have peace and quietness, but the
fool will not : he there ; that he ; look you there.
^ax. O thou damned cur 1 I shall—
j4cMi. Will yon set your wit to a fool's f
Ther. No, I warrant you ; for a fool's will
Bhame It.
Pair. Good words, Thersites.
j^chit. What's the quarrel?

W/aj'. I bade the vile owl. go learn me the tenour
of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.

Ther. I serve thee not.

^jaj.\ Well, Ro to, go to.

Ther. I serve here voluntary.

u4chil. Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not
voluntary ; no man is beaten voluntary : Ajax was
here the voluntary, and you as under a-i impress.

Tker. Even so T — a great deal of your wit too
lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector
shall have a j^reat catch, if he knock out either of
your brains ; 'a were as good crack a fusty nut
with no keriiel.

Achil. What, with me too, Thersites f

Tker. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor,— whose
wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on
tlieir toes,— yoke you like draught oxen, aud make
you plough up the wars.

j^chii. What, what/

Ther. Yes, good sooth ; To, Achilles ! to, Ajax ! to \

I shall cut out your tongue.
7'*er. 'Tis no matter ; 1 shall speak as much ai
thou, afterwards.

135

286 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 3.

Pntr. No more words, Thersites ; -peace.

Tker. I will hold my peace, when Achilles' brach
bids me, shall I 7

Refill. There's for you, Patrocliis.

'J'her. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere
I come any more to your tents ; 1 will keep where
there is wit siirring, and leave the faction of fools.

Patr. A good riddance.

^chU. Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through all
our host :

TTiat Hector, by the first hour of the sun,
"VVill, with a trumpet, 'iwixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to aims.
That hath a stomach ; and such a one, that dare
Maintain — I know not what; 'tis trash; Farewell,

yjjax. Farewell. Who shall answer him ?

j^rhil. I know not, it is put to lottery ; otherwise,
He knew his man.

Aja».\ O, meaning you : — I'll go learn more of it.

SCKNE II.

Troy. ^ room in Priam's Palace.
Enter PRTAM, HECTOR, TItOILUS, PARIS,
ami HELENUS.
Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent,
Thns once again says Nestor from the Greeks :
Deliver Helen, and nil damage else —

honour, loss of time, travel, e.tpence,
fVbunds, /Tiemls, tiTid what else dear that is consum'd
In hot digestion of this cormorant war, —
Shall be struck ojf;— Hector, what say you to'i?
I/ect. Though no man lesser fears the Greelta
than I,

As far as toucheth my particular, yet.
Dread Priam,

There is no lady of more softer bowels.
More spungy to suck in the sense of fear.
More ready to cry out — fi''ha knows what follo»sf
Than Hector is : The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure ; but modest doubt is callM
The beacon of the wise ; the tent, that searches
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:
Since the first sword was drawn aboat this question,
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes,

Sc. 2. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 287

HatK been as dear as Helen ; J mean, of ours :
I If we have lost »io mmy tenths of ours,

To ziiivrd a ihintf not ours ; not worth to us.

Had it our name, the value of one ten;

AVhiit merit's in that reason, which denies

The yielding of her up?

Tro. Fie, fie, my brother!

Weiiih you the worth and honour oi a king.

So great as our diead father, in a scale

Of common ounces? will you with counters sum

The p'rist-proportion of his infinite?

And buokie-in a waist most fatliomless,

With spans and inches so diminutive
^ As fears and reasons! fie, for godly shame I

(Het. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at
reasons,
I You are so empty of them. Should not our fathtr
Bear the great s%vay of his aftUirs with reasons,
Because vour speech hath none, that tells him so?
'J'ro. \ on are for dreams and slumbers, brother
priest.

You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your
reasons :

You know, an enemy intends you harm ;
You know, a sword employ'd is perilous,
Anil reason flies the object of all harm :
Who marvels then, wllen Helenus beholds
A CJrccian and his sword, if he do set
The very winp* of reason to his heels ;
\ And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
^ Or like a star dis-orb'd f — Nay, if we tnlk of reason,
1 Lei's shut our gates, and sleep: Manhood and
honour

Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their
thouiihts

With this cramm'd reason : reason and respect
Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.

Jffct. Brother, she is not worth wnat she doth cost
The holding.

7'ro. What is aught, hut as 'tis valued ?

J/ect. But value dwells not in particular will;
It holds his estimate and dignity
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself
As in the prirer : 'tis mad idolatry,
'I'd make the Ser\-ice greater than the god ;
And the will dotes, that is attributive
To what infectiously itself si£fects.

288 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 2.

Without some image of the affected merit. ^
Tro. I take to-<iay a wife, and my election ^
Is led on in the conduct of my will ; ^
My -will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, [
Two traded pilots ^twixt the dangerous shores j
Of will and judgment : How may I avoid, ,
Although my will distaste what it elecied, ^
The wife I chose ? there can be no evasion
To blench from this, and to stiuid firm by honour : 1
"We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, \
When we have soil'd them ; nor the remainder viands
We do not throw in unvespective sieve,
Because we now are full- It was thought meet,
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks: !
Your breath with full consent bellied his sails ; \
The seas and winds told wranglers) took a truce, '
And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir d ;
And, for an old aunt, whom the Greeks held captive, !
He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and fresh- j

Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning, j
Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt :■ ■
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl.
Whose price hath launched above a thousand ships,
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants.
If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went,
(As you must needs, for you all cry'd— C^'o, go,")
If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize,
(As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your handi,
And cxy'Ci—Inesthmhlt!^ why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate ;
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Bet^gar the estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land? O theft most base;
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep !
But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen.
That in their country did them that disgrace.
We fear to warrant in our native place !
Cos. UVxlhin?^ Cry, Trojans, cry I

What noise \ what shriek is th
Tro. 'Tis our mad sister. I do know her voice.
Cas. \mWJi~'\ Cry, Trojans!
Hect. It is Cassandra.

Enter CASSANDRA, raving,
Cas. Cry.Troians, cry ! lend me ten thousand eyO
And I will fill'tbem with prophetick tears.

Sc. 2. TROILUS AND eRESSlDA.
Hect. Peace, dUler, peace.

Cos. Virtpiis aud boys> tuid-age and wrinkled
elders,

Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,

Add to my clamours ! let us pay betimes

A moiety of that mass of moan to come.

Cry, Tro'ans, cry' practise your eyes with tears!

I Troy must not be, nor Koodly Ilioii stand ;

' Our fire-brnud bnuher, Paris, burn::! us all.
Cry, Trojaus, cry! a Helen, and a woe:
Cry, cry ! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. \^Kxit.
Hect. Now, youthful rroilus, do not these high
strains

Of divination in our sister work
Some touches of remorse or is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason^
Nor tear of bad success in a bad cause.
Can qualify the same t

7'ro. Why, brother Hector,

We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than event doth form it;
Nor once deject the couraf[e of our minds,
Because CassHudra's mad : her l)rain-sicVc raptures
Ciiunot distaste the goodness of a quarrel,
Which hath our several honours all eni^a^'d
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons :
And Jove forbid, there should be done amongst us
Such thin);s as might offend the weakest spleen
To fight for and maintain !

Par. Else miijht the world convince of levity
As well my undertakings, as your counsels :
But i attest the gods, your full consent
Gave wings to my propensijn, and cut off
All fe.^rs attending on so dire a proiect.
For what, alas, can these my single arms T
What propugnation is in one man's valour.
To stand tha push and enmitv of those
j This quarrel would excite ? Yet, I protest,
ArVere [ alone to pass the difficulties,
And had as amplo power as I have will,
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuit.

290 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 3.

Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself
The pleasures such a beauty biiiijjs with it ;
But J would have the soil of her fair rape
Wip'd off, ill honourable keeping her,
"What treason were it to the ransacW'd queen.
Disgrace to your Rrsst worths, and shame to mt.
Now to deliver her possession up
On terms of base compulsion ? Can it be.
That so degenerate- a stain as this
Should once net tooting in your £(en*rous bosoms ?
There's not the meanest spirit on otir party.
Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw.
When Helen is defended ; nor none so noble,
Whose life were ill bestow'd, or death unfam*d,
Where Helen is the subject: then,.! say,
W^ell may we flight for her, whom, we know well,
The world's large spaces cannot parallel.

Hect. Paris, and Troilus, you have both said well;
And on the cause and question now in hand
Have gloz'd, — but superficially; not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy:
The reasons, you allege, do more conduce
To the hot passion of di--temper'd blood.
Than to make up a free determination
* Twixt right and wrong; For pleasure and revenge
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decision. Nature craves,
All dues ba ren'ler'd to their owners; Now
What nearer debt in all humanity.
Than wife is to the husband? if this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection ;
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benumbed wills, resist the same ;
There is a law in each well-order'd nation.
To curb those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refractory, ,
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king, —
As it is known she is, — these moral laws
Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud
To have her back veturn'd : Thus to persist
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion
Is this, in way of truth : yet, ne'ertheless.
My spritely brethren, I propend to you
In resolution to keep Helen still ;
For 'tis a cause, that hath no meau dependance

Se. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

291

Upon our joint aiiti several dignities.

7"ro Why, there you touch "d the life of our design:
Were it not glory, that we more wtVected
Than the penormaiice of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more iu her defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honour and renown;
A spur to valiiUil and magnanimous deeds ;
Whose inesent courage may beat down our foes.
And fame, in time to come, cauoni».e us :
For, I presume, hrave Hector would not lose
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory,
As smiles upon the forehead of this action,
FoT the wide world's reveaue.

Meet. I Jun yours.

You valiant offspring of great Priamus. —
I have a roistirjg challenge sent amongst
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike amauement to their drowsy spirits :
I was advt-rtis'd their gieat general slept.
Whilst emulation in the army crept ;
This, I presume, will wake him. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.
The Orecian cimp. Before Achilles' tent.
Enttr THERSITES.
7%er. How now, Thorsites? what, lost in the
labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax
carry it thus? he beats me, and 1 rail at him: O
worthy satisfaction! 'would, it were otherwise;
that 1 could beat him, whilst he railed at me ;
*Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but
I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then
there's Achilles,— a rare engineer. If Troy Iw not
taken till these two undermine it, the walls will
stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great
thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art
Jove the king of gods ; and. Mercury, lose all the
sei-pentine craft of thy Caiuctus ; if ye take not that
little little loss-than-little wit from them that they
have \ which short-armed ignorance itself knows is
so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention
deliver a fly from ft spider, without drawing their
massy irons, and cutting the web. After this, the
vengeance on the whole camp ! or, ratlter, the bone-
ache ! for that, methiiiks, is the curse dependant

292 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 2.

on those that war for a placket. I have said my
prayers ; and the devil, euvy, say Amea. What,
no ! my lord Achilles !

F.Jiter PATROCLUS.

PatT, Who's there? Thersiles 7 Good Thersites,
come in and rail,

Ther . If I could have remembered a gilt coun-
terfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped out of my
contemplation : but it is no matter ; Thyself upon
thyself 1 The common curse of mankind, folly and
ignorance, be thine in great revenue ! heaven bless
thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near
thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy
death ! then if slie, that lays thee out, says— thou
art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't,
she never shrouded any but lazars Amen. Where's
Achilles t

Pair. What, art thou devout? wast thou in
prayer ?

T/,er. Ay; the heavens hear me !

Enter ACHILLES.
^chii. Who's there?
Patr. Thersites, my lord.

^cAiV. Where, where?— Art thou come ? Why,
my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served
thyself in to my table so many meals? Come;
what's Agamemnon f

7'/<er. 'I'hy dommander, Achillea ;— Then tell me,
Patroclus, wliat's Achilles.' ,

Pacr. Thy lord, Thersites ; Then tell me, I pray
thee, whjrt's thyself?

TAer. Thy knower, Patroclus ; Then tell me,
Patroclus, what art thou i

Pa'.r. Thou maysi tell, that knowest.
Mii. O, tell, tell.

7'her. I'll decline the whole question. Agamem-
non commands Achilles ; Achilles is my lord ; I am
Patroclus' knowev ; and Patroclus is a fool.

Pa'.r. You rascal !

Tfier. Peace, fool ; I have not done.

^cMl. He is a privileged man.— Proceed, Ther-
sites.

7'her. Agamemnon is a fool ; Achilles is a fool ;
Thersites is a fool ; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is
a fool.

3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 293

j4chU. Derive this ; come.

TMer. Agamemnon is a fool to oiFer to command
Achilles ; Achilles is a fool to bu commanded of
Agamemnon ; Tliersites is a fool to serve such a
fool ; and Patrocrus is a fool positive.

Parr. Why am I a fooU

7'ier. Make that demand of the prover. — It Buf-
fices me, thou art, Look you, who comes here ?

Snter AGAMKMNON, ULYSSKS, NESTOR,
DIO.VIEDES, and AJAX.

^ckit. PatrocUis, I'll speak with nobody :— Come
in with me, Thersites. [Ej it.

Ther. Here is such patcherv, such iugftlinj;, and
such knavery! all the argument is, a' cuckold, and
a whore ; A good quarrel, to draw emulous factions,
and bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpipo on
the suhject ! and war, and lechery, confound all !

[Ejit.

^eam. Where is Achilles?

Pair. Within his tent ; but ill-dispos'd, my lordt
^gam. Let it be known to him, that we are here.
He ahcnt our messenners; and we lay by
Our appertttinments, visiting of him :
Let him be told so; lest, perchance, he think
W e dare not move the question of our place.
Or know not what we are.
Pntr. I shall say so to him.

[Erit.

Vfyss. We saw him at the opening of his tcut ;
He is not sick,

^j'li . Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart : you
may call it melancholy, if you will favour the
man ; but, by my head, 'tis pride : But why, why ?
let him show us a cause. — A word, my lord.

[ 'lakes /fgfimemnon aside.

Kest. What moves Ajax thus to l)ay at him?

Vh/sf. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.

Aes/. Whof Thersites T

Viyss. He.

Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost
his argument.

(/fys.t. No ; you see, he is his argument, that has
his ariiument; Achilles.

Nest. All the better; their fraction is more our
■wish, than their faction r But it was a strong com-
posure, a fool could disunite.

204

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

Act %

Ultjss. The amity, that wisdom Icnits not, folly
may easily untie. Here comes Patroulus.

Re-enter PATROCLUS.

Nest. No Achilles with him.

VixfSS. The elephant hath joints, but none tot
courtesy : his legs are legs for necessity, not for
flexure.

Patr. Achilles bids me say — he is much sorry.
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure'
r>id move your greatness, and this noble state.
To call upon him ; he hopes, it is no other.
But, for your health and your digestion sake.
An after-dinner's breath.

Agatn. Hear you, Patroelus

We are too well acquainted with these answers ;
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn.
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.
Much atlrihute he hath ; and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him : yet all his virtues,—
T^ot virtuously on his own part beheld,—
Do, in our eyes, begin to lose their gloss ;
Vea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish, .
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him : And you shall not sin.
If you do say — we think him over-proud,
And under-honest; in self-assumption greater.
Than in the note of judgment; and worthier than
himself

Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on ;
Disguise the holy strength of their command.
And underwrite in an observing kind
His humourous predominance ; yea, watch
His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his tlows, as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go, tell him this; and add,
That, if he overbold his price so much.
We'll none of him ; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report —
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war :
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant : — Tell him so.

Patr. I shall : and bring his answer presently.

j4gam. In second voice we'll not be satisfied,
We come to speak with him :— Ulysses, enter.

S«. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

795

^iiu\ What is h« more than another?
^if'im. No more thHn what he thinks he is.

. la he so much ? Do you not think, he
thinks himsflf a Iwtter man than i am f
Wfi'am. No question.

yfjoi: Will you subscribe his thought, and say
—he )!i T

Aifmn. No, noble Ajax; you arc as strong, us
valiHnt, an wise, no less noble, much more gentle,
and altogether more tractable.

^i<i.r. Why should a man be proud ? How doth
pride urow ? I know not what pride is.

j4gam. Your mind's ihe clearer, Ajax, and your
virtues the fairer. He, that is proud,' eats up him-
self: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his
own cnroniclc ; and whatever praises itself but in
the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

j-ijna-. { do hate a pruud man, as i hate the en-
genciering of toads.

And yet he loves himself: Is itnot strange t

Re-enter ULYSSES.
Vltjfs. Achilles will not to the field tO-morrow.
^nam. What's his excuse?

Viifss. He doth rely on nonej

But carries on the stream of his dispose.
Without observance or resect of any.
In will peculiar and in selt-admission.

^gnm. Why will he not, upon our fair request.
Untent his p«rson, and share the air with us?

f/yw. Things small as nothing, for request's
sake only.

He makes important : Possess'd he is with greatness ;
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath : imagin'd worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse.
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
KiiiRdom'd Achilles in commotion rages.
And batters down himself: What should I say t
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it
Cry — A'u recorery.

^eom. Let Ajax go to him. —

Dear lorii, go you and greet him in his tent :
Tis said, he holds you well; and will be led»
At vour request, a little from himself.

Ul^SS. O Agamemnon, let it not be so !

296 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act2.

We'll consecrate the steps, that Ajax makes,
When they go from Achilles : Shall the proud lord.
That hastes his arvoganee with his own seam;
And never suiTers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts, — save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself, — shall he be worshipp'd
Of that we hold an idol more than he?
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd ;
Nor, hy my will, assubjuj^ate his merit.
As amply titled as Achilles is.
By going to Achilles :

That were to enlard his fat-already pride ;
And add more coals to Cancer, when he bums
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This lord go to him ! Jupiter forbid ;
And say in thunder — /4chilles, go fo him.

Nest. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him.

Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause !

^jax\ If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll
pash him
Over the face.
Again. O, no, yon shall not go,

Ajitx. An he be proud with me,I'll pheeze his pride:
liCi me go to him. '

Vlyss. Not for the worth that hj.ngs upon our
quarrel. *

AjtLV. A paltry, insolent fellow,

I\'est. How he describes

Himself! ^Aside.
Ajna:. Can he not be sociable ?
Vlyss. The raven

Chides blackness. ^Aside.
Aj'ix. I will let his humours blood.
Agnm He'll be physician, that should be the
patient. \^Aside,
Ajux. An all men
Were o'my mind,

Ajnx. He should not bear it so,
He should eat swords first : Shall pride cari-y it X
Ne&t. An 'twould, you'd carry half. [Aside.

Vlyss.

Wit would be out of fashion,
\_ Aside.

Vlyss.

He'd have ten shares.

[Aside.

Sc. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 297

^jai-. rU Ifnead hinj, I will make him sup-
ple : f

Nest. He'a not yet thorough warm : force hiin
with praises :
Pour in, pour iu ; his ambition is dry. [Aside.
UlifSs. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.

^ , {To Agamemnon.

Aest. Our noble general, do not do so.
I>io. You must prepare to fi«ht without Achilles.
Viyss, Why, 'tis this naming of him does him
harm.

Here is a man— But 'tis before his face ;

I will be silent. ^

.\'est . Wherefore should you so t

He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

U.'yss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Ajiu-. A whoreson dog, "that shall palter thus
with us !
I would he were a Trojan !

A'«'- What a vice

Were it in Ajax now

t'iyss. If he were proud ?

JJio. Or covetous of praise ?

t'lj/ss. Ay, or surly home?

2Jh. Or strange, or self-affected ?
U/yss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet
.composure ;

Praise him that >;ot thee, she that gave thee suck:

Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature

Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition ;

But he that discipliu'd thy arms to fight.

Let Mars divide eternity in twain.

And ffive him half: and, for thy vieour,

Btill-bearinc Milo his addition yield

To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom.

Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines

Thy spacious and dilated parts: Here's Nestor, —

Instructed by the antiquary times.

He must, he is, he cannot but be wise ; —

But pardon, father Nestor, were your days

As green as Ajax', and your brain so lemper'd.

You should not have the eminence of him.

But be as Ajax.

A^oa: Shall I call you father?

Aest. Ay, my good son.

-0(0. Be rul'd by him. lord Ajax.

Uiyss. There is no tarrying here ; the hart AclullM

29S TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 3.

Keeps tlncket. Please it our great general
To call together all his sta-e of war ;
Fresh kings are come to Troy : To-morrow,
We must with all our main of power stand fast :
And here's a lord,— come knights from east to west.
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope ihe best.

Agum. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw
deep. \_Exeu7U.

ACT III. SCENE I.
yVoy. A room in Priam's Palace.
Enter PANDARUS and a Servant.
Pan. Friend ! you ! pray you, a word : Do not
you. follow the young lord Paris .'

Sew. Ayn sir, when he goes before me.
Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean?
Serv. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.
Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentleman;
I must needs praise him.
Serv. The lord be prais'd !
Pan. You know me, do you not?
Serv. 'Faith, sir, superficially.
Pan. Friend, know me belter; I am the lord
Pandarus. .

Serv. I hope I shall know your honour better.

Pan. J do desire it.

Serv. You are in the state of grace.

^Mustek within.

Pan. Grace! not so, friend -, honour and lord-
ship are my titles : — What musick is this?

Serv. I do but partly know, sir ; it is musick in
parts.

Pan. Know you the musicians?

Serv. Wholly, sir.

Pan. Who play they to?

Serv. To the hearers, sir.

Pan. At whose pleasure, friend ?

Serv. At mine, sir, and theii-s that love musick-

Pan. Command, I mean, friend.

Seru. Who shall I command, sir?

Pan. Friend, we understand not one another ;
I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning: At
whose request do these men play ?

Serv, That's to't, indeed, sir : Marry, sir, at the
request of Paris my lord, who is there in person ;

St. I. TROH.US AND CRESSIDA. 299

with him, the mortal Veims, the heart-blood of

beauty, love's invisible soul,

■ Pan. Who, my cousin Cnfssida*

.■^^T u""' y" "o« fi"* out

that by her attributes ?

P«n. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not
seen the lady C ressida I come to sneak with Paris
from the pnnce I roilus : I will make a compli-
mental assault upon him, for my business seeths

Sodden business I there's a steived phrase,
mdeed ! *^ '

Extir PARIS and HELEN, allcndtil.

Pan. Pair be 10 you. my lord, and 10 all this
f«ir company fair desires, in all fair measure,
fa.rly guide them ! especially to you. fair queen !
fair thoughts be your fair pillow !

A/en. Dear lord, you are full of fair words.

i^in. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet uuesn.
—hair prince, here is good broken musick.

?S °" """^ ■'• ••""Sin : and, by my life,

you shall make it whole again; you shall piece it
out with a piece of your performance Nell, he is
lull of harmony.

Pan. Truly, lady, no.

Helen. O, sir,

.Pan. Rudo, in soolh ; in good sooth, very rude.

lar. W ell said, my lord ! well, you say so in fits.

/•nn. I have business to my lor<i, dear queen :

V° ■ vouchsafe me a word '.

Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: ivell
hear you sine, certainly.

Pan. Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant with
me.— But (marry) thus, mv lord,— My dear lord,
ana most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus—

Heltn.My lord Pandarus ; honey-sweet lord,—
.. "i 'o, sweet queen, go 10 :— commends
himselt most atfectiunately to you.

Helen. You shall not bob ns out of our melody :
II you do. our melancholy upon your head !

/"oil. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet
queen. I'faith.

Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad. is a sour
oltence.

Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that
shall it not. in truth, la. Nay. I care not for such
words i no. no.— And, my lord, he desires you, that.

300 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 3.

if the Hng call fov him at supper, you will make
his excuse.

Helen. My lord Pandarus,

Pan. What says my sweet queen ? — my very very
sweet queen ?

Par. What exploit's in hand ? where sups he to-
night ?

Helen. Nay, hut my lord,

Pan. What says my sweet queen ?— My cousin
\vill fall out with you. You must not know where
he sups.

■ Par. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cres-
sida.

Pan. No, no, no such matter, you are wide;
come, your disposer is sick.

Par. WeU, I'll make excuse.

Pan. Ay, good ray lord. Why should you say
— Cressida? no, your poor disposer's sick.
■ Par. I spy.

Pan. You spy! what do you spy ?— Come, gire
me an instrument. — Now, sweet queen.
Helen. Why, this is kindly done.
Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a thing

■ you have, sweet queen.

Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not
my lord Paria.

Pan. He! no, she'U none of him ; they two are
twain.

Helen. Falling in, after falling outy may make
them three.

Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of this ; 1 11
sing you a song now.

Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now. By my troth, sweet
lord, thou hast a fine forehead.

Pan. Ay, you may, you may.

Helen. Let thy song be love : this love will undo
U3 all, O, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!

Pan. Love ! ay, that it shall, i'faith.

Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love,

Pan. In good troth, it begins so :

Love, love, nothing but love, still more !

For, oh, love's bow

Shoots buck and doe :

The shaft confounds

Not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore.

Sc. 1. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 301

These lovers cry— Oh ! oh ! they die !

Yet thai which seems the wound to kill.
Doth turn oh ! oh ! to ha ! ha ! he !

So dying love lives still :
Oh ! oh ! a while, but ha I ha ! ha !
Oh I oh J groans out for ha ! ha ! ha !

Hey ho !

Helen. In love, i'faith, to the very lip of the nose.

Par. He eats nothing but doves, love ; and that
breeds hot blood, and hot blood beijets hot thoiinhis,
and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds
is love.

fnn. Is this the generation of love ? hot blood,
hot thoughts, and hot deeds? — Why, they are
Wpers: Is love a generation of %-ipers ? Sweet
lord, who's a-field to-day ?

Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenu<t, Antenor, and
all the gallantry of I'roy : I would fain have arm'd
to-day, hut my Nell would not have it so. How
chance my brother Troilus went not ?

Helen. He hangs the Up at something; — you
itnow all, lord Pandarus.

Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen.— I long to hear
how they sjjcd to-day.— You'll remember your
brother's excuse T

Par. To ft hair.

Pun. Farewell, sweet queen.

Helm. Commend me to your niece.

Pan. I will, sweet queen, \KiU.

\A retreat sauntied.

Par. TTiey are come from field: let us to Priam's
hull.

To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you
To help unarm our Hector: his stublwrn buckles.
With these your while enchanting fingers touch'd.
Shall more obey, than to the edt;e of steel.
Or force of Greekish sinews : you shall do more
Than all the island kings, disarm great Hector.
Heltn 'Twill make us proud to be his servant,
Paris :

Yea, what he shall receive of us in duly,
Gives us more palm in beauty than we have;
Yea, overshines ourself.
Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee.

136

302 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 3

SCENE II.
T^e same. Pandarus' orchard.
Enier PANDARUS and a Servant, meeting.
Pan. How now? where'a thy master? at my
cousin Cressida'b 7

Serv. No, sir ; he stays for you to conduct him
thither.

Enier TROILUS.

Pan. O, here he comes. — How now, how now?

Tro. Sirrah, walk off. [Sj'iV Servant.

Pan. Have you seen my cousin?

Tra, No, Pandarus : I stalk about her door>
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks.
Staying for waftage. O, he thou my Charon,
And give me swifr transportance to those fields.
Where I may wsllow in the lily beds
Propos'd for the deserver ! O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's shoulder phick his painted wingsy
And fly with me to Cressid !

Pan. Walk here i'the orchard, 1*11 bring her
straight. {Exit Pandarus.

Tro. I am giddy ; expectation whirls me round.
The imaginary relish is so sweet.
That it enchants my sense ; What Avill it be,
Wben that the watry palate tastes indeed
Love's thi'ice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me ;
Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine.
Too sub tie -potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness,"
For the capacity of my ruder powers :
I fear it much ; and 1 do fear besides.
That I shall lose distinction in my joys ;
As doth a baiile, when they charge on heaps
The enemy flying.

Re-enter PANDARUS.

Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come straight:
you must be witty now. She does so blush, and
fetches her wind so short, as if she were frayed
with a sprite : I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest'
villain: — she fetches her breath as short as a new-
ta'en sparrow. {Exit Pandarus.

Tro. Eveu such a passion doth emmace my bosom:
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse ;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,

Sc. 2. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 303

Like vassalage at unawares eucoum'ring
The eye of majesty.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.
Pan. Come, come, what need you blush ? shame's
ft baby.— Her* she is now: swear the onihs now
to her, that you have sworn to me.— What, are
you gone again ? you must be watched ere you be
made tame, must you * Come your ways, come
your ways; an you draw backward, we'll put you
1 the fills.— Why do you not speak to her f— Come,
draw this curtain, and let's see your picture. Alas
the day, how loath you are to offend day- light ! an
'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so: rub on,
and kiss the mistress. How now, a kiss in fee-
fftrm! build there, carpenter; the air is sweet.
Nay, you shall finht your heartR out, ere I part
you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks
1 the river: go to, go to.

7'ro. You ha\"e bereft me of all words, lady.

P'tn. Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but
she'll Iwreave you of the deeds Too, if she call your
activity in question. What, billing again* Here's
K'itNes'! u>h«reof the pnrties iaUrchttngeably—
Come in, come in; 1*11 go get a fire.

.„ „ {K.fit Pnndartis.

Cre<i. Will j;ou walk in, my lord ?

Tro. OCressida, howoftenhavel wish'dme thus !

Cres. Wish'd, my lord! — The gods grant! O

my lord 1

Tro. What should they grant ? what makes this
pretty abruption ? What too curious dreg espies
Wy sweet lady in the fountain of our love t

Cres More dregs than water, if my fears have
eyes.

Tro. Fears make devils cherubims ; they never
tee truly.

Ores Blind fear, that seeinj; i-eason leads, finds
safer footing than blind reason stumbling without
fear : i'.i feur the woist. oft cures the worst.

Tio.^ O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in all
Cupid's pageant there is pi-esented no monster.

Cref. Nor nothing monstrous neither?

Tra. Nothing, but our undertakings; when we
vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame
tigers ; thinkmg it harder for our mistress to devise
imposition enough, than for us to undenfo any

304 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 3.

difficulty imposed. This is the monstiuosity in
love, lady, — that the will is infinite, and the exe-
cution confined ; that the desiie is boundless, and
tlie act a slave to limit.

Cres. They say, all lovevs swear more perform-
ance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability
that they never perform ; vowing more than the
perfection of ten, and discharging less than the
tenth part of one. They that have the voice of
lions, and the act of hares, are they not monsters?

7'ro. Are there such f such are not we : Praise
us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove ; our
head shall go bare, till merit crown it: no perfec-
tion in reversion shall have a praise in present : we
will not name desert, l>efore his birth ; and, being
bom, his addition shall be humble. Few words
to fair faith : Tvoilus shall be such to Cressid, as
what envy can say worst, shall be a mock for his
truth ; and what truth can speak truest, not truer ,
-than Troilus,

Cres. Will you walk in, my lord ?

Re-enter PANDARUS.
Pan. What, blushing still? have you not done
talking yet?

Cres. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedi-
cate to you.

Pan. I thank you for that ; if my lord get a boy
of you, you'll give him me: Be true'to my lord :
if he flinch, chide tn% for it.

7'ro. You know now your hostages ; your uncle's
word, and my firm faith.

Pan- Nay, I'll give my word for her too; our
kindred, though they be long ere they are woo'd,
they are constant, being won : they are burs, 1 can
tell you; they'll stick ivhere they are thrown.

Cres. Boldness comes to me now, and brings ma
heart : —

Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day

For many weary months.

Tro. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win i
Cres. Hard to seem won ; but I was won, my lord.

With the first glance that ever— Pardon me ; —

If I confess much, you will play the tyrant.

I love you now ; but not, till now, so much

But t might master it : — in faith, I lie ;

My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown

Sc. 2. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 305

1^ Too headstrong for their mother: See, we fools !
Why have 1 hlahh'd f who shall be true to us.
When we are so uusccret to ourselves!

I But though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not;

I And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man;
Or that we women had men's privilei;e

I Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue;

I For, in this rapture, I shall surely speak

The thing, I shall repent. See, see, your silence.
Cunning in dumbneus, from my weakness draws

I My very soul of counsel : Stop my mouth.

7Vo. And shall, albeit sweet musick issues thence.
Pan. Pretty, i'faith.

Crcs. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me ;
'Twas not my purpose, thus to Iteg a kiss :
I am asham'd : — O heavens ! what have 1 done ?—
For this lime will I take my leave, my lord.

Tto. Your leave, sweet Cressid \

Pan. Leave ! an you take leave till to-morrow
morning,

Cres. Pray you, content you.

'fro. What offends you, ladyf

Cres, Sir, mine own company.

Tro. You cannot shun

Yourself.

Cres. Let me go and try :
I have a kind of self resides with you ;
But an unkind self, that itself will leave.
To be another's fool. 1 would be gone : —
Where is my wit ? I know not what 1 speak.

TVa. Well know they what they speak, (hat
speak so wisely.

Crts. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft
than love ;

And fell so roundly to a large confession.
To angle for your thoughts: But you are wise;
Or else you love not : For to be wise, and love.
Exceeds man's might ; that dwells with gods aV>ove.

Tro. O, that I thought it could be in a woman,
(As, if it can, ! will presume in you,)
To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love ;
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,
Outlivinjt beauty's outward, with a mind
That doth renew swifter than blood decays !
Or, that pei-suaston could but thus convince me,—
That my integrity and truth to you
Might be affrouted with the match and weight

306 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act. 3.:

Of such a Tviiinow'd purity in love ;
How were I then uplifted ! 1ml, alas,
I am as true as truth's simplicity.
And simpler than the infancy of truth.
Cres. In that I'll war with you.
7'ro. O virtuous figh(.

When right with right wars who shall be moat

True swEtins in love shall, in the world to come.
Approve their truths by Tvoilus : when their rhymes.
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,
"Want similes, truth tir'd with iteraUon, —
As true as steel, hs plaulage to the moon.
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, —
Yet, after all comparisons of truth.
As truth's authentick author to he cited,
As true as Troilus shall crown up the verse,
And sanctify the numbers.

Cres. Prophet may you be !

If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
"When time is old and hath forgot itself,
When water-drops have worn the stones of Troy,
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,
And mighty slates characterless are grated
To dusty nothing ; yet let memory.
From false to false, among false maids in love.
Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said— as
false

As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth.

As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,

Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son:

Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood.

As false as Cressid.

Pun. Go to, a bargain made : seal it, seal itj
I'll be the witness. — Here I hold your hand ; here,
my cousin's. If ever you prove false one to an-

together, let all pitiful goers-between be call d to
the world's end after my name, call them all —
Paiidars ; let all constant men be Ti'oiluses, all
false women Cressids, and all brokers-between
Pandars ! say, amen.
Ttq. Amen.
Cres. Amen.

Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a
chamber and a bed, which bed, because it shall not

right ;

other, since I have taken

Sc. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 307

speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death :
away.

And Cupid grand all tongue-tied maidens here.
Bed, clianil>er, Paiidar to provide this geer ;

\_Sxeunt.

SCENE HI.
The Grecian Camp.
/Tn^n-AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES,
NKSTOR, AJAX, MENELAUS, and CAL-
CHAS.

Cat. Now, princes, for the service I have done youp
The advantage of the time prompts roe aloud
To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind,
That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jov«
I have abaiiuBu'd Troy, left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name ; expos'd myself.
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes ; sCquest'ring from me all,
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition.
Made tame and most familiar to my nature j
And here, to do you service, am become
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted:
I do hejjcech you, as in way of taste.
To give me now a linle henefit.
Out of those many register'd in promise.
Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.

Agum, Wliat wouldSt thou of us, Trojan I malc«
demand.

Cat, You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor,
Yesterday took ; I'roy holds him very dear.
Oft have you, ;often have you thanks therefore,)
Desir'd my Cressid in right i;reat exchange.
Whom Troy hath still denied : But this Antenor,
I know, is such a wrest in their affairs.
That their negociaiions all must slack,
Wanting his manase ; and they will almost
Give us a prince of the blood, a son of Priam,
III change of him : let him l»e sent, great pruices.
And he shall buy my diiughter ; and her presence
Shall quite strike otf all service I have done.
In most acccepted pain.

/Jgum. Let Diomedes bear him.

And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall have
What he requests of ns. — Good Diomed,
Furnish you fairly for this interchaag* :

303 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 3.

Witlial, bring word— if Hector will to-morrow
Be answer'd in his challenge : Ajax is ready.

Bio. This shall 1 undertake ; and 'tis a burden,
Which I am proud to bear.

\_Exeunt Dio/nedes and Calchas.

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before their
ieni.

Ulpss. Achilles stands i'the entrance of his tent :—
Please it our general to pass strangely by him.
As if he were forgot ; — and, princes all,
Lay_ negligent and loose regard upon him : —
I will come last : 'Tig like, he'll question me,
"Why such unplausive eyes are bent, %vhy tum'd
on him :

If so, I have derision med'cinable.
To use between your strangeness and his pride.
Which his own will shall have desire to drink ;
It may do good ; pride hath no other glass
To show itself, but pride; for supple knees
Feed arrogance, and,' are the proud man's fees.

Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along; —
So do each lord ; and either greet him not.
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.

Achil. What, cemes the general to speak with me f
You know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.

Agam. What says AJchilles ? would he aught
with us?

Nest. Would you, my l6rd, aught with the general?
Achil. jVo.
Nest Nothing, my lord.
Again. The better.

\Ea^eunt Agamemnon and Nestor.
Achil, Good day, good day.

Alen. How do you ? how do you ?

l^Exit Menelaus,

Achil, What, does the cuckold scorn me ?

Aj<ia.\ How now, Patroclus ?
Achil. Good morrow, Ajax.

Ajax, Ha ?

Achil. Good morrow.

Ajax. Ay, and good next day too.

\_Exit AjoA-,

Aohil. What mean these fellows? Know they
not AohUlfls ?

Sc.3. TROILUS ANB CRESSTDA. 309

Patr. Tliey pass by strangely : they were us'd
to )>«nd,

To send their smiles before them to Achilles ;
To come as humbly, as they us'd to creep
To holy altars.

I 'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
I Must fall out with men too : What the declin'd is.
He shall as soon read iu the eyes of others,
As feel ill Ilia own fall : for men, like butterflies.
Show not their mealy wings, but to the summer;
And not a man, for being simply man.
Hath any honour ; but honour for those honours
Tliat are without him, as place, riches, favour.
Prizes of accident as oft as merit :
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers.
The love that lean'd on them as slippery too.
Do one pluck down another, and lojiethcr
Die in tlie fall. But 'tis not so with me :
Fortune and I are friends ; I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did possess,
Save these men's looks ; who do, melhinks, find out
Something not worth in me such rich beholding
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses;
I'll interrupt his reading, —
How now, Ulysses.

Ult/ss. Now. gi-eat Thetis* son ?

j4ehU. What are you reading X

Vlyss. A strange fellow here

Writes me, That man — how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or Avithout, or in, —
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath.
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection ;
As when his virtues shining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.

■Mchil. This is not strange, Ulysses.

The beauty, that is Inirne here in the face,
'I'he beaver knows not, but commends itself
To others' eyes ; nor doth the eye itself,
(That most pure spirit of sense,) behold itself.
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd
Salutes each other with each other's form.
For speculation turns not to itself,
Till it hath travell'd, and is married there.
Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all.

Vltfss, I do not strain at the position^

What, am I poor of late?

310 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 3.

It is familiar; but at the author's drift:
Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves —
That no man is the lord of any thing,
(Though in and of him there be much consisting,)
Till he communicate his parts to others :
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught.
Till he behold them form'd in the applause,
"Where they are extended ; which, like an arch re-

verberates
The voice again ; or like a gate of steel.
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this ;
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.

Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse ;
That has he knows not what. Nature, what things
there are.

Most abject in regard, and dear in use !

"What things a^ain most dear in the esteem.

And poor in worth ! Now shall we see to-morrow.

An act that very chance doth throw upon him,

Aiax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do,

"While some men leave to do !

How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,

"Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes !

How one man eats into another's pride,

While pride is fasting in his wantonness !

To see these Grecian lords ! — why, even already

They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder;

As if his foot wei'e on brave Hector's breast,

And great Troy shrinking.

AckiL I do believe it : for they pass'd by me.
As misers do by beggars ; neither gave to me
Good word, nor look : What, are my deeds forgot ?

Ult/s.i. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back.
Wherein he purs alma for oblivion,
A great-siz*d monster of ingratitudes :
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done : PersOveranee, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way j
For honour travels in a strait so narrow.
Where one but goes abreast : keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue : H you give way.

Sc. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

311

Or hedp« aside from the direct fortliright.
Like to an emer'd tide, they all rush oy,
Aud leave you hindmost
Or, like a gallant hoi'se lallen in fint rank.
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on : Then what they do in
present,

Though Ie«9 than yours in past, must o'ertop yours :
For time is like a fashionable host,
That sUghtly shakes his parting guest by the hand :
And with his arms oui-s(retcli d, as lie would fly,
Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue aeek
Remuneration for the thing it was-;
For beauty, wit,

High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,

I-ove, friendship, charity, are subjects all

To envious and calumniating time.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,—

TKat all, with one consent, praise netv-bom gawds.

Though they arc made and moulded of things past ;

And give to dust, that is a little gill,

More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.

The present eye praises the present object :

Then msirvel not, thou great snd cbraplete man.

That all the Gtocks begin to woi-ship Ajax ;

Since things in motion sooner catch the eye.

Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,

And still it might, and yet it may again.

If thou wouldsi not entomb ihyself alive.

And cjise thy reputation in thy tent ;

Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,

Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves.

And drave great Mars to faction.

^chil. Of this my privacy

1 have strong reasons.

The reasons are more potent and heroical :
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam's daughters.

j4chU. Ha! known?

Vfyss, Is that a wonder?
The providence, that's in a watchful state.
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold ;
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensivo deeps ;
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods.
Does thoughu unveil in their dumb cradles.

Ulyss.

But 'i

ai3 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 3.

There is a mystery (with whom relation

Durst never meddle) in the soul of state ;

"Which hath an operation more divine,

Than breath, or pen, can give expressure to :

All the commtrce that you have had with Troy,

As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord ;

And better would it fit Achillea much.

To throw down Hector, than Polyxena :

But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home.

When fame shall in our islands sound her trump ;

And all the (^reekish girls shall tripping sing, —

Great Hector's sister did AckHles win ;

Sm our great W/Vu' bravely beat down Mm.

Farewell, my lord : I as your lover speak ;

The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.

{Edit.

Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you :
A woman impudent and mannish grown
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemu'd for this ;
They think, my little stomach to the war.
And your great love to me, restrains you thus :
Sweet, rouse yourself ; and the weak wanton
Cupid

Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold.
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane.
Be shook to air.

j4chU. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Patr. Ay ; and, perhaps, receive much honour
by him.

t^chil. I see, my reputation is at stake;
My fame is shrewdly gor'd.

Patr. O, then beware ;

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themr
selves :

Omission to do what is necessary
Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then when we sit idly in the sun.

^cfiil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus :
I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
To invite the Trojan lords after the combat,
To see us here unarm'd : I have a woman's longing.
An appetite that I am sick withal,
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace ;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage.
Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd !

Sc. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 313

Enter THERSITES.

Thtr. A wonder!
.IchiL What'

Thtr. Ajax goes up and down the 6eld, asking
for himselt.

WcAiY. How 50 T

Thtr. H e mu&t fight singly to-morrow with
Hector; aiid is so prophetically proud of an h«-
roical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.

^chU. How can that be I

Tker. Why, he iitallcs »p and down like a pea-
cock, a itriae, and a stand : ruminates, like an
hostess, that hath no arithmetick hut her brain to
cet down her reckoning : bites his lip with a poli-
tick regard, as who should say — tliere were wit in
this hea4. an 'twould out ; and so there is ; but it
lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will
not show without knocking. The man's undone for
ever ; for if Hector break not his neck i'the combat,
hell break it Jiimself in vain-glory. He knows not
me: I said, Good-monw, ^aj ; and he replies,
7'hunlrs, j4gumemfiim. What think you of this man,
that lakes me for the general! He is grown a very
Jand-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of
opinion! a man may wear it on both sides> like k
leather jerkin.

i<chit. Thou must be my embassador to htm*
Thersites.

7'ker. Who, I! why, he'll answer nobody; he
rofesses not answering : speaking is for beggars ;
e wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his
pi-eseiice; let Patroclus make demands to me, you
shall see the pageant of Ajax.

^cW. To him, Patroclus: Tell him, — I humbly
desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous
Hector to come unaiminl to my tent ; and to procure
safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous,
and most illustrious, six-or seven- times-honour 'd
captain- general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon.
Do this.

Patr. Jove bless great Ajax.
7'Afr. Humph!

Ptilr. 1 come from the worthy Achilles,—
Tfier. Ha!

Pntr. ^^'ho most humbly desires you, to invite
Hector to his tent;—

314 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, Act 4.

Ther. Humph !

Pair. And to procure safe conduct from Aga-
memnon.

Ther. Agamemnon?
Patr> Ay, my lord.
Ther. Ha!

Pair. What say you to't?

7'fier, God be wi' you, with all my heart.

Piitr. Your answer, sir,

7'Aer. If to-moirow be a ftur day, by eleven
o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he
shall pay for me ere he has me.

Pair. Your answer, sir.

TheT. Fare you well, with all my heart.

yichil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What mu-
sick will be in him when Hector has knocked out
his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none,
unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make
catlings on.

yJcHil. Come, thou ahalt bear a letter to him
straight.

7'her. Let me bear another to his horse ; for
that's the more capable creature.

y^chil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd ;
And I myself see not the bottom of it.

iKa'eunc Achillea and Pntroclas.

Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were
clear a^ain, that I might water an ass at it ! I had
rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant i^-
norauce. ^ \_t.xit.

ACT IV. SCENE I.
Troi/. A street.

Enter, at one side, 7ENE\S, and Servant, with a
torch; at the other, P\RIS, DEIPHOBUS,
ANTENOR, DIOMEDES, and Others, with
torches.

Par. See, ho ! who's that there ?

Zlei. 'Tis the lord ^neas.

yEne. Is the prince there in person ? —
Had I so good occasion to lie long.
As you, prince Paris, nothing but- heavenly busi-
ness

Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Sc.l. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

315

Dio. Th«t*» mjf mind too.— Good morrow, lord

Far. A valiant Greek, Veritas ; talce his hand :
Witness the process of your speech, wherein
You luld — how Diomed, s whole week by days.
Did tiaunt you in the field.

^ne. Health to you, \*aliant sir,

Durinn all question of the gentle truce :
But when I meet you arra'd, as black defiance.
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm ; and, so long, health :
But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove, 1*11 play the hunter for thy life.
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

-■Ene. And thou shah hunt a lion, that will fly
With his face backward. — In humane ftentleuess.
Welcome to Trov ! now, by Anchises' life.
Welcome, indeed ! By Venus' hand I swear.
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
The thioK he means to kill, more excellently.

Dio. We sympathixe : — Jove, let ,^neas live.
If to my BWoVd his fate be nol the glory,
A thoutiand complete courses of the sun !
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die.
With ewry joint a wound ; and that to-morrow !

y^Ewff. We know each other well.

Dh. We do ; and lonn to know each other worse.

Pur. This is the most despiteful (jentle greeting.
The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.—
What business, lord, so earlyl

-Srtf. I was sent for to the king; but why, I
know not.

Par. His purpose meets you; 'Twas to bring
thi^ Greek

To Calchas' house ; and there to render him.
For the enfrced Antenor, the fair Cressid:
Let's have your company ; or, if you please,
Hiiste there before us: I consiantly do ihink,
COr, rather, call my thoui^ht a certain knowledge,)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night ;
House him, and Rive him note of our approach,
With the whole quality wherefore : I fear.
We shall be much unwelcome.

•^ne. That I assure you;

Troilus had rather Troy were b6riie to Greece,
Thau Cressid borne from Troy.

316 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 4.

Par. ( There is no help ;

The bitter disposition of tlie time
Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you.

jSne. Good morrow, all. [Eait.

Par, And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell me
true.

Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,—
Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best.
Myself, or Menelaus?

Dio. Both alike :

He merits well to have her, that doth seek her
(Not mak-ing any scruple of her soiluve,)
With such a hell of pain, and world of Charge j
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the taste of her dishonour,)
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends :
He, like a puling cuckold, would diiuk up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece j
You, like a leeher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors :
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more;
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your coimtrywoman.

Dio. She's bitter to her country: Hearme, Paris,—
For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,
A Trojan hath been slain : since she could speak.
She hath not given so many good words breath.
As for her Greeks and Trojans sufferM death.

Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy :
But we in silence hold this virtue well, —
We'll not commend what we intend to sell.
Here lies our way. \_Exeunt.

SCENE II.
The same. Court hefort the house of Pandarus.

Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.
3Vo. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold.
Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle

down ;

He shall unbolt the gates.

Tro. Trouble him not;

To bed, to bed : Sleep kill those pretty eyes.
And give as soft attachment to tby senses.

V J. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 317

j As infants' empty of all thought !

Crcs. Good morrow then.

7'ro. Pr'ythee noxr, to bed.

Cres. Are you aweary of me ?

Tro. O Cressida ! but that the busy day,
WaWd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows.
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
I would not from thee.

CVm. Night hath been too brief.

Tro. Beshrew the witch ! with venomous wights
she stays.

As tediously as bell ; but flies the grasps of love.
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
You will catch cold, and curse me.

Cres. Pr'ylhee, tarry ; —

You men will never tarry,

0 foolish Cressid ! — I might have still held oflF,
And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's

one up.

Pan. {fVitkin.'\ What, are all the doors open here ?
TV*, ft is your uncle.

Enter PANDARUS.
Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking:

1 shall have such a life,

Pnn. How now, hownow T how go maidenheads?
—Here, you maid! wheie's my cousin Cressid?
' CrtJ.Go hang yourself,you naughty mocking uncle!
I You bring me to do, and then you flout me too.
Pan. To do what? to do what? — let her say
what : what have I brought you to do ?

Cres. Come, come ; beshrew your heart ! you'll
ne'er be good,
Nor suffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha ! Alas, poor wretch ! a poor ca-
pocchia ! — hast not slept to-night? would he not, a
Baughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him !

[Knocking.

Cres. Did not 1 tell you ? — 'would he were knock'd
o'tbc head ! —
Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see. —
My lord, come you again into my chamber;
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.

TVti. Ha, ha I

Cres. Come, you are deceivM, I think of no such
thing.— [h'nocking.
How f arnesUy they Imock '—pray you, come in ;

318 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 4.

I would not for half Troy have you seen here.

\^Eaeu7it Troilus and Cressida.

Pan. \^Golng to ike door."] Who's there ? what's
the matter? will you bee.t down the door? How
now ? what's the matter ?

Enter M^'Efi.S.

jSne. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

Pan. Who's there? my lord j^lneas ? By my
troth, I knew younot : what news ivith you so early ?

j^fis. Is not prince Troilus here

Pan. Here ! what should he do here?

jSne. Come, he is hcje, my lord, do not deny him ;
It doth import him much, to^ speak with me.

Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than 1 know,
I'U be sworn : — For my own part> I came in late :
What should he do here ?

yiE/ie. Who ! — nay, then :—
Come, eome, you'll no him wrong ere you are 'ware :
You'll be so true to him, to be false to him :
I>o not you know of him, yet go fetch him hither ;
Go.

wrfs Pandarus is going out, entei- TROILUS.

Tro. How now? what's the matter?

-iffine. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you.
My matter is so rash : Thej e is at hand
Palis your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us ; and for him forthwith.
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hoar.
We must Ejive up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.

Tro. Is it so concluded ?

j^ne. By Priam, and the general state of Troy :
They aie at hand, and ready to effect it.

2'ro. How my achievements mock me !
I will go meet them ; and, my lord /Eneas,
We met by chance ; you did not find me here.

jEne. Good, good, my lord ; the secrets of nature
Have not more gift in taciturnity.

{^Eaeunt Troilus and ^neas.

Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got.but lost? The devil
take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. A |
plague uponAn tenor ! I would,they had broke's nsck!
Enter CRESSIDA.

t'm.Howiiow?Whatis the matter?Who was here?

Sc. 3.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

319

Pan. Ah, ah !

Cres, Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my
lord gone T
Tell me, awe«t uncle, what's the matter?

Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth
as I am above !

Cres. O the gods ! — what's the matter?

Pan. Pr'vthee, get thee in ; 'Would thou hadst

death: — O poor gentleman! — A plague upon Antonorl

Cres, Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees,
1 beseech you, what's the matter?

Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be
gone ; thou art changed for Antenor : thou must to
thy father, and be gone from Trcllus ; 'twill be hii
death ; 'twill l>e his bane ; he cannot bear it.

Cres. O you immortal gods! — I will not go.

Pan. Thou must.

Cres. I will not, uncle : I have forgot my father j
I know no touch of consanguinity ;
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me.
As the sweet Troilus. — O you gods divine !
Make Cressid's name the very crOwn of falsehood.
If evur she leave Troilus ! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can ;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the vpry r;entre of the earth,
Dva^ving all things to it.— I'll go in, and weep

Pon. Do, do.

Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised
cheeks ;

Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart
With sounding Troilus. 1 will not go from Troy.

The same. lie/ore Pandarus' house.
Knter PARIS, TROILUS, yENKAS. DEIPHO-
BLS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES.

Par. It is great morning ; and the hour prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon : — Good my brother Troilus,
Tell Tou the lady what she is to do.
And tiaste her to the purpose.

7>(), Walk in to her house j

I'll bring her to the Grecian presently :
And to his haad when 1 deliver her.

[Exeun!.

SCENE III.

320 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 4.

Think it an altar ; and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there offering to it his own heart. \^Eait.

And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help ! —

The same. j4 room in Pandarus' house.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
Cres. Why tell you me of moderation ?
The gi'iei' is fine, full, perfect, that I taste.
And violenteth in a sense as strong
As that which causeth it : How can I moderate it ?
If I coald temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying dross ;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter TROILUS.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes. — Ah sweet ducks!

Cres. O Troilus ! Troilus ! [Embracing hhn.

Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here ! £et me

embrace too : O heart, — as the goodly saying is,

0 heart, o hea>^ heart,

fVhff sigh'st thou without breaking?
where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease Ihy smart,
. Bj/ friendship, nor by speaking.
There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast away
nothing, for we may live to have need of such a
verse; we see it.'we see it. — How now, lambs ?

Tro. Ci-essid, I love ihee in so stiain'd a purity.
That the blest gods — as angry with my fancy.
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities, — take thee from me.

Cres. Have the gods envy ?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case.

Cres. And is it true, that I must go from Troy?

Tro. A hateful truth.
. Cres. What, and from Troilus too?

Tro. From Troy, and Troilus.

Jw. Is it possible?

iro. And suddenly ; where injury of chance

Please you, walk in, my lords.

[Eaeunt.

SCENE IV.

Sc. 4. TROltUS AXD CRESSIDA.

321

' Puts back leave-talfine, justles roughly by
} All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
i Of all rejoiudure, forcibly previ'iits

Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear tows
I Even ill the birth of cur own lalmurio^ breath :
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste.
Crams his vich thievery up, he knows not how :
I As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
I With distinct breath and consignM kisses to them,

He fumbles up into a loose adieu ;
' And scants us with a single famish 'd kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
j^ne. [WlfMm.] My lord'- is the lady ready ?
Tro. Hark! yon are call'd: Some say, the Genius so
Cries, Come.' to him, that instantly must die. —
Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my tears t rain, to lay this wind,
1 or my heart will be blown up by the root 1
j [Exit Pandarus.

Cres. I must then to the Grecians T
Tro. No remedy.

Cres. A woful Cressid *mongst the merry G reeks !
When shall we see again f

7'r.'. Hear me, my love : Be thou but true of
heart, — —

Cres. I true i how now ? what wicked deem is this ?

7'ro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly.
For it is parting from us :—
I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee ;
For i will throw my glove to death himself.
That there's no maculation in thy heart :
But, be thou true, say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation ; be thou true.
And 1 will see thee.

Cres. O, you shall be expos'd,my lord, to dangers
As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true.

Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear
this sleeve.

Crts, And you this glove. When shall I see you ?

Tro. 1 will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet, Iw true.

Cres, O heavens ! — be true, again I

Tro. Hear why I speak it, love ;

322

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

Act 4.

The Grecian youths are full of quality ;
They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature
flowing,

And swelling o'er with arts and exercise ;
How novelty may move, and pai-ts with person,
Alaa, a kind of godly jealousy
(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,)
Makes me a afeard.

Cres. O heavens ! you love me not.

Tro. Die I a villain then I
In this I do not call your faith in question.
So mainly as my merit : I cannot sing.
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk.
Nor play at subtle games ; fair virtues all.
To which thcGrecians are most prompt and pregnant;
But I can tell, that in each grace oi these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,
That tempts most cumiingly : but be not tempted.

Cres. Do you think, I will?

Tro. No.

But something may be done, that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
\Vhen we will tempt the frailty of our powers.
Presuming on their changeful potency.

^ne. \_iVithin.'] Nay, good my lord,— ^

Tro. Come, kiss ; and let us part.

Par. [lyuhin.'] Brother Troilus !

7ro, Good brother, come you hither;

An(l| bring ^neas, and the Grecian, with you.

Cftes. My lord, will you be true ?

Tro. Who I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:
While others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity ;
Whilst' some with ounniiig gild their copper crowns,
W^ith truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth ; the moral of my wit
Is — plain, and true, — there's all the reach of it.

Enter ^NEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHO-

BUS, and DIOMEDES.
Welcome, sir Diomed! here is the lady.
Which for Antenov we deliver you :
At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand j
And, by the way, possess thee what she is.
Entreat her fair ; and, by my soul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe

Sc. 5. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 3^3

As Priam is in Ilion.

Dio, Fair lady Cressid,

So please you, save the thanVs this prince exp«c;a :
The lustre in your eye., heaven in your cheek.
Pleads your fair usage ; and to Diomed
You bhall be mistress, and command him wholly.

2'rp. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteoiisiy.
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee.
In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She iii as far hiph-soariug o'er thy praises,
As ihou unworthy to he call'd her servant.
I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge ;
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not.
Though the Rreat bulk Achilles be thy guard,
I'll cut thy throat.

Ifio. O, be not mov d, pnnce Troilus :

Let me be privileg'd by my place, and message.
To be a speaker free ; when I am hence,
III answer to my lust: And know you, lord,
I'll nothing do on charge : To her own worth
She shall be pria'd ; but that you say— he t so,
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour, — "o-

Trv. Come, to the port.— I'll tell thee, Diomed,
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.—
Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk.
To o'ur own selves bend we onr needful talk.

[Kxeunt Troilus, Crcssida, and fhomedes.

[Trvmpet heard.

Par. Hark! Hector'c trumpet.

JSne, How have we spent this naommg .

The prince must think me tardy and remiss.
That swore to ride before him to the field.

Par. 'Tis Troilus' fault: Come, come, to field
with him.

D<\- Let us make ready straight.

JEne. Yea, with a brideijroom'a fresh alacnty.
Let U3 address to tend on Hector's heels :
The glory of our Trov doth this day lie
On his fair worth, aiid single chivalry. lExcunt.

SCENE V.
7*1! ihecian Camp. Lists set out.
Enter AJAX. armed: AGAMEMNON, A.CHIL-
LES, PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYh-
SES, NESTOR, and Others.
Agam, Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair.

324 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 4.

Anticipating time with starting courage.
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Ihou dreadful Ajai; that the appalled air
May p.erce the head of the peat combatant.
And hale him hither.

Ajn.v, Thou, trumpet, there's my purse.

Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brajen pipe :
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek
Out-swell the cholick of puff'd Aquilon •
Come, stretch thy ohest.and let thy eyes spout blood :
Thou blow St for Hector. [ Trumpet sounds.

Ulyss. No trumpet answers.

■if'''"- , 'Tis but early days.

■fgum. Isnotyon Diomcd,withCalchas' daughter '
Ul^ss. Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait ;

«e rises on the toe : that spirit of his

In aspiration lifts him from the earth.

£>iler DIOMEDES, mil/, CRESSIDA.
-^gam. Is this the lady Cressid ?
■O"'"- ^ Even she.

-«j-am. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet
lady.

Nest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss.

U'!/ss. Yet IS the kindness but particular:
1 were better, she were kiss'd in general.

Nest. And very courtly counsel : I'll begin ,

so much for Nestor.

.^cUl. I'll take that.winter from yourIips,fairladv:
AchiUes bids you welcome.

Men. I had good argument for kissing once.

i^atr. But that's no argument for kissing now :
* or thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment i
And parted thus you and your argument.

Ulj/ss O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns !

D ""'^J. lose our heads, to gild his horns.

mr. The first was Menelaus' kiss : this, mine :
ratroclus kisses you.

^"i- „ O, this is trim!

J"a(r. Pans, and 1, kiss evermore for him.
Men . I U have my kiss, sir :— Lady, by your leave.

Cres. In kissing, do you render, or receive t
Patr. Both take and give.
™^**?*.- , I'll make my match to live,

lha kiss you take is better than you give ;
ITierefore no kiss.
Men. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.

Sc. 5. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 325

Cres. You're an odd man ; give even, or give none.
Men. An odd man, lady? every man is odd.
Cres. No, Paris is not; for, you know, 'tis true.
That you are odd, and he is even with you.
Men. You fillip me o'the head.
i*res. No, 1*11 be sworn.

Ulyss. It were no match, your nail against his
horn. —

May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you ?

Crts. You miay.

UltfSs. 1 do desire it.

Cres. Why, beg then.

Vlyss. Why then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss.
When Helen is a maid again, and his,

Crts. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due.

Uiyss. Ncver's my day, aud then a kiss of you.

Dio. Lady, a word ; — I'll brine you to your fa-
ther. [Diomedes leads out Cressida.

Nest. A woman of quick sense.

Ulifss. Fie, fie upon hert

There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Kay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her boay.
O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue.
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes.
And wide L'nclasp the tables of their thoughts
To every ticklish reader! set them down
For sluttish spoiW of opportunity.
And daughters of the game. \_Trumpet toUMn.

^U. The Trojans' trumpet.

Enter HECTOR, armedi ^ENEAS, TROILUS,

itnd other 7'rojans, tcitk .attendants.
jSne. Hail, all the state of Greece ! what shall
be done

To him that victory commands T Or do yon purpose,

A victor shall be known ? will you, the kuights

Shall to the edge of all extremity

Pursue each other ; or shall they bo divided

By any voice or order of the field !

Hector bade ask.

Afram. Which way would Hector have it T

^it^ne. He cares not, he'll obey conditions.
j^ckit. 'Tis done like Hector; but securely done,

A little proudly, and great deal misprizing

The knight opposed.

326 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 4.

^nt. If not Achilles, sir,

AVhat is your name ?

j^chil. If not Achilles, nothing.

j^ne. Therefore Achilles : But, whate'er, know
this;—

In the extremity of great and little,
Valom- and pride excel themselves iu Hector ;
The one almost as infinite as all,
The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well.
And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy.
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood :
In love whereof, half Hector stays at home ;
Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek
This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
y^ckU, A maiden battle then? — O, I perceive you.

Re-enter DIOMEDES.
j^gam. Here is sir Diomed ; — Go, gentle knight.
Stand by our Ajax: as you and lord ^neas
Consent upon the order of their fight,
So be it; either to the uttermost.
Or else a breath : the combatants being kin.
Half stints their strife before their strokes begin.

and Hector enter the lists.
Ulyss. They are oppos'd already.
ylgam. What Trojan is that same that looks so
heavy ?

Ulyss. The youngest son of Priam, a true kmght ;
Not yet mature, yet matchless ; firm of word;
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue ;
Not soon proTok'd, nor, being provok'd, sooncalm'd:
His heart and hand both open, and both free ;
For what he has, he gives, what thinks, he shows ;
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty.
Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath :
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous ;
For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes
To tender objects ; but he, in heat of action.
Is more vindicative than jealous love :
They call him Troilus ; and on him erect
A second hope, as fairly built as-Hector.
Thus says ^neas ; one that knows the youth
Even to his inches, and, with private soul.
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.

\^Alarum. Hector find Ajax Jight.

Agam. They are in action.

Nest. Now, Ajax, hold thine own !

Sc. 5. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 327

Tro. Hector, thou sleep'st!

Aivalce thee !
j4^am. His blows are welldispos'd :— there, Ajax !
Dto. You must no more. \^Trumvets ctn^e.

^ne^ Princes, enough, so please you.

.^'(U-. I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
iJio. As Hector pleases.

Hect. Why then, will I no more

Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son,
A cousin- germ an to great Priam's seed ;
The obligation of our hlood forbids
A gory emulation 'twixt us twain:
Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so,
That thou couldst say— 7T4i5 hand is Grecian altf
And this If Trojan ; the tinetrs vf this leg
Alt Greek, and this all Troy ; my mother's blood
/tuns on the dealer cketk, and this sinister
Bounds-in my father's ; by Jove multipotent.
Thou shnuldst not bear from me a Greekisli member
"Wherein my sword had not impressure made
Of our rank feud : But the just gods gainsay,
That any drop thou borrow'st from thy mother.
My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword
Be drain'd! Let me embrace thee, Ajax :
By him that thunders, thou hast lusiy arms ;
Hector would have them fall upon him thus :
Cousin, all honour to thee \

A}ai\ I thank tlicc, Hector :

Thou art too gentle, and too free a man :
1 came to kill thee, cousin, and bear lieuce
A great addition earned in thy death.

Ueet. Not Neoptolemus so mirable,
( On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st O yes
Cries, This is Ae,) could promise to himself
A thought of added honour torn from Hector.

^ne. Thereis expectance here from both the sides
What further yo;i will do.

Hect. We'll answer it ;

TTie issue is embracement Ajax, farewell.

Ajar. If I m'.ght in entreaties find success,
(As seld I have the chance,) I would desire
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.

Dio. IHs Agamemnon's wish : and great Achilles
Doth loop to see unarm'd the valiant Hector.

Nect. JEnens, call my brother Troilus to me :
And signify this loving interview
To the expecters of our Trojan part ;

328 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 4.

Desire them home. — Give me thy hand, my cousin ;
I will go ea* with thee, and see your knights.

Ajaa,'. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.

Hect. The worthiest of them tell me name by name j
But for Achilles, my own searching eyes
Shall find him by his large and portly size.

Agam. Worthy of arms ! as welcome as to one
That would be rid of such an enemy;
But that's no welcome : Undei-stand more clear.
What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd with
husks

And formless ruin of oblivion ;^

But iu this extant moment, faith and troth,

Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawintr :

Bids thee, with most divine integrity.

From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.

Hect. I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.

Agam, My well-fam'd lord of Troy, no less to
you. [TV TtoUus.

Men. Let me confirm my princely brother's
greeting ; — ■

You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.

Hect. Whom must we answer?

■^ne. The noble Menelaus.

Hect. O you,my lord? by Mars his gaunt!et,thanks!
Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath ;
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove :
She's well, but bade me not commend Iier to you.

Men. Name hernot now, sir; she's adeadly theme.

Hect. O, pardon; I offend.

Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft.
Labouring for destiny, make cruel way
Through ranks of Greekish youth : and I have seen
tliee,

As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed.
Despising many forfeits and subduements.
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i'the air.
Not letting it decline on the declin'd ;
That I have said to some my standers-by,
Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life /
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath.
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in.
Like an Olympian wrestling : This have I seen j
But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel,
I never saw till now. I know thy grandsire.
And once fought with him : he was a soldier good;
But, by great Mars, the captjun of us all.

Sc. 5. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA- 3W

Never like thee : Let an old man embrace thee ;
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.
^ne. 'Tis the old Nestor.

Hect- Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle.
That hast so Iouk walk'd haiid in hand with time
Most revei-end Nestor, T am glad to clasp thee.

Nest. I would, my arms could match thee in
contention.
As they contend with thee in courtesy.

Hect. I would they could.

Nest. Ha!

By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow.
Well, welcome, welcome! 1 have seen the time—

Uly$s. I wonder now how yonder city stands.
When we have here her base and pillar by us.

Hect. I know your favour, lord Ulysses, well.
Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,
^ince first I saw yourself and Diomed
In llion, on your Gieekish embassy.

Vlj/ss. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue :
My prophecy is but half his journey yet ;
For yonder walls, that pertly front your town.
Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds.
Must kiss their own feet.

^«/. _ I must not believe you :

There they stand vet ; and modestly I think.
The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
A drop of Grecian blood: The end croi^nis all;
And that old common arbitrator, time,
"Will one day end it.

Ulyss. So to him we leave it.

Most gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome :
After the general, I beseech you next
To feast wiih me, and see me at my tent.

Achil. I shall forestall thee, lord Ulysses, thou !—
Now, Hector, 1 have fed mine eyes on thee ;
I have with exact view perus'd thee. Hector,
And quoted joint by joint.

Is this Achilles r

yJchl. l am Achilles.

Hect. Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee.

Mil. Behold thy fill.

Nay, I have done already.

.^^fAiV. Thou art too brief; I will the second time.
As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.

Hect. O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er ;
But there's more in me than thou uuderkUsd'st.

330 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 4.

Why dost thou ao oppress me with thine eye ?

^cfliV.Tell me,you heavens,in which part of his body
Sliall I destroy him ? whether there, there, or there ?
That I may give the local wound a name ;
And make distinct the very breach, whereout
Hector's great spirit flew : Answer me, heavens !

Hect.lt would discredit the bless'd gods,proudnian.
To answer such a question : Stand again:
Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly.
As to prenominate in nice conjecture,
Wliere thou wilt hit me dead ?

ylchil. I tell thee, yea.

Hect. M'"ert thou an oracle to tell me so,
I'd not believe theij. Henceforth guard thee well;
For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there ;
But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm,
I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er. — •
You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag.
His insolence draws folly from my lips ;
But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,

Or may I never

A]aA'. Do not chaffi thee, cousin; —

And you, Achilles, let these threats alone.
Till accident, or purpose, bring you to't :
You may have every day enough of Hector,
If you have stomach ; the general state, I fear.
Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.

Htct. I pray you, let us see you in the field ;
"We have had pelting wars, since you refus'd
The Grecians' cause.

Achil, Dost thou entreat me, Hector?

To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death ;
To-night, all friends,

Hect. Thy hand upon that match.

Agam. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent;
There in the full convive we : afterwards.
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall
Concur together, severally entreat him. —
Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow.
That this great soldier may his wel^jme know.

\^E.veunt all but Troilus and Ulysses.
Tro, My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you.
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep ?

UlySS. At Meneiaus' tent, most princely Troilus :
There Diomed doth feast \vith him to-night ;
Who neither looks upon 4.he heaven, nor earth.
But gives all gaze aud bent of amoruus view

Sc. 5. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. S31

On the fair Cressid.

Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much.
After we part from Agamemnon's tent.
To bring me thither?

Ulyss. You shall command me, sir.

As gentle tell me, of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy T Had she no lover there.
That wails her absence ?

Tro. O, sir, to such as boasting chow their scars,
A mock is due. Wilt you walk on, my lord X
She was belov'd, she lo v'd ; she is, and doth :
But, still, sweet love is food for fortune's looth.

\Kxmiia,

ACT V. SCENE I.
The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles* tent.
Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.
Achit. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine
to-night.

Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.—
Pairoclus, let us feast him to the height.
Patr. Here comes Thersites.

Enter THERSITES.
Ackit. How now, thou core of envy?

Thou erustv batch of nature, what's the uewsT

Tker. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest,
"""l^i °i lot- worshippers, here's a letter for thee.
^ehtt. From whence, fragment?
Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
Pair. Who keeps the tent now ?
^Aer. 'ITie surgeon's box, or the patient's wound.
Pair. Well said. Adversity ! and what need these
tricks f

T^er. Pr'ythee be silent, boy ; I profit not by thy
talk : thou ait thought to be Achilles' male varlet.

Patr. Male varlet, you rogue ! what's that T

masculine whore. Now the
rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, rup-
tui-es, catarrhs, loads o'Ki-avel i'the back, lethargies,
cold palsies, raw eves, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing
luugs, bladders full of imoosthume, sciaticas, lime-
kilns i'the palm, incurable bone-ach, and the rivell'd
fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such
preposterous discoveries !

Patr, Why thou damnable box of envy, thou,
what meanest Ihou to curse thus ?

333 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Aet 5.

Ther. Do I curse tKee ?

Pair. Why, no, you ruinous butt ; you whoreson
indistinguishable cur, no.

Ther. No ? why art thou then exasperate, thou
idle immaterial skein of sleive silk, thou green
sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodi-
gal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pes-
tered with such water-flies; diminutives of nature I

Pair. Out, gall !

Ther. Finch egg !

Achil. My sweet Patrochis, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle.
Here is a letter from queen Hecuba ;
A token from her daughter, my fair love;
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it:
JPall, Greeks ; fail, fame ; honour, or go, or stay ;

My major vow lies here, this I'll obey.

Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent ;
This night in banqueting must all be spent. —
Away, Patroelus. [^Exeunt y^cMUes and Patroclus,
7'her. With too much blood, and too little brain,
these two may run mad ; but if with too much brain,
and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer of mad-
men. Here's Agamemnon, — an honest fellow enough,
and one that loves quails ; but he has not so much
brain as ear-wax : And the goodly transformation of
Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, — the primitive
statue, and oblique memorial of cuckolds ; a thrifty
shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother 3
leg, — to what form, but that he is, should wit larded
■with malice, and malice forced with wit, turn him
to ? To an ass, were nothing : he is both ass and ox :
to an ox, were nothing ; he is both ox and ass. To
be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard,
an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I
would not care : but to be Menelaus— I would con-
spire against destiny. Ask me not what I would be,
it I were not Thersites ; for I care not to be the louse
of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus. — Hey-day I
spirits and fires !

Enter HECTOR, TROTLUS, AJAX, AGAMEM-
NON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, MENELAUS,
and DIOMEDES, with lights,
^^am. We go ivxong, we go wrong.
^jtue. No> yonder 'tis ;

Sc. 2. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 333

There, ^vhtre we see the lights.

„ I trouble you.

j^tu . No, not a whit.

I 'yss. Here comes himself to guide you

£>!to ACHILLES.
-4cJl7. Welcome.braveHector; welcome,princes all
^gHK. Sonow,f»ir prince of Trov.I Lid good nisht
Ajai commands the euard to tend on you

ThaiiVs, and good night, to the Greeks-
general.
Afen. Good night, my lord.
^i"' c J Goodnight, sweet Mcnelatis.
Jiirr. Sweet draught: Sweet, quoih 'a ! sweet
smk, sweet sewer.

^cAiV. Good night.
And welcome, lioth to those that go, or tarry

"'b'"- ^Igax. and Mtn.

"'<■ I^i'stor Mmes ; and you too, Diomed,
lieep Hector company an hour or two.
Ow. I cannot, lord ; I hare important business,
,', "hereof IS now — Good night, treat Hector.
Hect. Oive me your hand.
T^'iS'fv . follow his torch, he goes

To Calchas- tent; I-U keep you company.

, [Aside to Tnilus.

Iro, Sweet sir, you honour me.
Hett, And so good night.

V ■ '*'»«*»•• Vlyss. and Tn. Jothmair.

Ackil. tome, come, enter my tent.

lA."""' -^Mlles, Hector, Ajar, and A'tslor.
Iher. That same Diomed 's a false-hearted rogue,
a most unjust knave ; I will no more trust him
when he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses:
he w^Il spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabler
the hound; but when he performs, astronomers
foretell It; it is prodigious, there will come some
change ; the sun borrows of the moon, when Dio-
med keeps his word. I wiU rather leave to see
Hector, than not to dog him ; they say, he keeps a
1 rojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent :
1 11 after — Nothing but lechery ! aU incontinent
varlets! [g^j,.
SCENE II.
The same. Bejbrt Calchas' tent.
£(!(«■ DIOMEDES.
Dh. What are you up here, ho? speak,
ISS '

334 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 5.
Cal. \JVitUh.'] Who calls?

Dio. Dioroett.— Caichas, I think.— Where's yoiir
daughter ?

Cal. \_PVithin.'] She comes to you.

En;«r TROILUS and ULYSSES, at a distance;
after then THERSITES.

Ulj/ss. Stand where the torch may not discover aa.
Enter CRESSIDA.

Tro. Cressid come forth %o him !

X)io. ■ ' How now, my charge ?

Cres. Now, my sweel, 'guardian ! — Hark! a word
with you. ' [fFhispers.

Tro. Yea, so fa^Kiliar! .

U/t/ss. She will sing any man at first sight.

TAer. And any man may sing her^ if he can take
her cliff ; she's noted.

Dio. Will you remember?

Cres. Remember? yes.

/)io. Naj, but do then ;

And let your mind he coupled with your words.

Tro. What should she remember?

Ult/ss. List!

Cres. Sweet honeyGreek, tempt me no more to tolly.
Ther. Roguery !
Dio. Nay, then,—

Cres. I'll tell you what: —

Bio. Pho! pho! come,tellapin: You are forsworn.—
Cres. In faith, I cannot : What would you have
me do ?

■j^ker. A juggling trick, to be— secretly open.
Dio. What did you swear you would beatow on me?
Cres. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath ;
Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.
Dio. Good night.
Tro. Hold, patience !

Ulvss. How now, Trojan?

Cres. Diomed,

Dio. No, no, good night : I'llbe yourfool nomore.
Tro. Thy better must.

Cres. Hark! one word in your ear,

Tro. Oplague and madness!
Ult/ss. You are mov'd, prince ; let us depart, I
pray you,

Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
To wrathful terms : this place is dangerous ;

Sc. 2. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 335

The time riglit deadly; I beseech you, go.
7'ro. Behold, I pray you !

Ulyss. Now, good my lord, go off:

lou flow to great destruction ; come, my lord,
7'ro. I pr'ythee, stay.
Uli/ss. You have not patience; come.
Tro. I pray you,stay ; by hell, and all hell's tor •
ments,
I will not speak a word.
■^'f- And so, good night.

Cres. Nay, but you part in anger.

Doth that crieve thee?
I 0 witherM truth ! ,

f^fy-^s. Why, how now, lord?

T By Jove,

1 will be patient.
Cres. Guardian !— why, Greek !

I Dto. Pho, pho ! adieu ; you palter.

Cres. In faith, I do not; come hither once again.

IU^yss. You shake, my lord, at something ; will
you go ?
You will break out.
7'to. She strokes his cheek !

WyAT. Come, come.

7ro. Nay, stay ; by Jove, I will not -speak a word :
There is between my will and all offences
A guard of patience :— stay a little while.

Ther. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump,
and potatoe finger, tickles these together! Fry,
lechery, fry !
J)io. But will you then ?

Cres. In faith, I will, la ; never trust me else.
Dh. Give me some token for the surety of it.
I Cres. I'll fetch you one. [^Eait.
i'fyss. Yoa have swora patience.
Tro. Fear me not, my lord ;

I will not be myself, nor have cognition
Of what I feel ; I am all patience.

Re-enter CRESSIDA.

Ther. Now the pledge ; now, now, now !

Cres. Here, Dicmed, keep this sleeve.
I Tro. O beauty ! where's thy faith J
! Vft/ss. My lord,

7'r<j. I will be patient; outwardly I will.
^ Cres. You look upon that sleeve; Behold it well.—
e)Ie lov'd me— O false wench! — Give't me again.

336 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 5.
J>i£). Whose was't?

Crts. No matter, now I have*t again. '

I will no* meet with you to-morrow night : |
I or'vthee, Diomed, visit me no more. J
THr. Now she sharpens Well said, whetstone. "J
Dio. I shall have it, -j
C«s What, this \

mo. Ay. that.

Cres. O, all you gods !— O pretty pretty pledge !
Thy toaster now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee, and me ; and sighs, and takes my glove.
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it, ,
As I kiss thee.— Nay, do not snatch it froni me;
He, that takes that, must take my heart withal.
Bio. I had your heart before, this follows it.
Tro. I did swear patience. ,^ ■ i

Cres. You shall not have it, Diomed ; taitti you
shall not;
I'll give you something else.

nio. I will have this ; Whose was itT
Cres. '"^^^ "° matter.

Dio. Come, tell me whose it was. .
Cw.'Twas one's that lov'd me better than you will.
But, now you have it, take it. _
Dlf,^ Whose was it i

Cres. By all Diana's waiting-women yonder.
And by herself, I will not tell you whose.

Dio. To-morrow will 1 wear it on my helm ;
And grieve his spirit, that dares not challenge it.

Tro. Wertthou the devil,and wor'stit on thy hom.
It should be challeug'd.

Cres. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past;— Ana yet
it is not ;
I will not keep my word.

jjiQ^ Why then, farewell ;

Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.

Cres. You shall not go One cannot speak a word.
But it straight starts you.

I do not like this fooling.
Thsr. Nor I, by Pluto : but that that likes not
you, pleases me best.

Dio. What, shaU I come? the hour? \
Cres. Ay, come : — O Jove!—

Do come :— 1 shall be plagu'd.
j^Iq^ Farewell till then.

Cres. Good night. I pr'ythee come.— ,
\_Eitit Diomedesf

Sc. 2. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 337

Troilus, farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee ;
But with my heart the other eye doth see.
Ah I poor our sex ! this fault in us 1 find.
The error of our eye directs our mind ;
What error leads, must err; O then conclude,
Minds, sway*d by eyes, are full of turpitude.

[Eait Cressida.

Ther. A proof of strength she could not publish
more,

Unless she said, My mind is now tura'd whore.

O/yss, All's done, my lord.

Tto. It is.

Ufyss. Why stay we then T

Tro. To malce a recordatiom to my soul
Of every syllable that here was spoke.
But, if I tell how these two did co-act.
Shall I not lie ia pubKshini; a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart.
An espeniiice so obstinately strong.
That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears ;
As if those organs had deceptions functions.
Created only to calumniate.
Was Ciessid here?

l^^lyss. I cannot conjure, Trojan.

Tro. She was not, sure.

^^lyss. Most sure she was.

TVo. Why, my nepation hath no taste of madnesf.

U/yss Nor mine, my lord : Cressid was hero but
now.

7'ro. Let it not be- belieT'd for womanhood !
Think, we had mothers ; do not give advantage
To stubborn criticks — apt, without a theme.
For depravation, — to square the general ser
By Cressid's rule; rather think this not Cressid.

Uit/ss. What hath she done, prince, that can soil
our mothers ?

Tto. >rothing at all, unless that this were she.

Tker. Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?

Tto. This she? no, this is Diomed's Cressida:
If beauty have a soul, this is not she;
If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimony.
If sanctimony be the gods* delight.
If there be rule in unity itself.
This was not she. O madness of discourse,
That cause sets up with and against itself!
Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt
jkWithout perdition, and loss assume all reason

338 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 5

"Without revolt ; this is, and is not, Cressid !
Within my soul there doth commence a fight
Of this strange nature, that a thing iiiseparate
Divides more wider than the sky and earth;
And yet the s^pacious breadth of thia division
Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle
As is Arachne's broken woof, to enter.
Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates;
Cvessid is mine, tied with the bonds of Heaven :
Instance, O insUnce ! strong as heaven itself;
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd.dissolv'd.andloos'd;
And with another knot, five-finger-tied,
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and. greasy reliques
Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.

U/!/ss. May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
With that, which here his passion doth express?

7'ra. Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well
In characters as red as Mars his heart
Inflam'd with Venus: never did young man fancy
With so eternal and so fix'd a soul.
Hark, Greek;— As much as I do Cressid love.
So much by weight hate I her Diomed :
That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear on his helm ;
Were it a casque compost by Vulcan's skill.
My sword should bite it : not the dreadful spout.
Which shipmen do the hurricano call, i
Constrinfv'd in mass by the almighty sun, i
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
In his descent, tlian shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomed.

7'her. He'll tickle it for his concupy.
Tro. O Cressid ! O false Cressid ! false, false, false!
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name.
And they'll seem glorious.

Uit/ss. Of contain yourself;

Your passion draws ears hither.

Enter ^NEAS.
j^ne. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord r
Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy ;
Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home.
7'ro. Have with you, prince : — My courteous lord,
adieu ; —

Farewell, revolted fair ! — and, Diomed,
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head !
Uitfss. I'll bring you to the gates.

Sc. 3. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 330

Tro. Accepb distracted thanks,

[Raeunl, Troilus, jSneas, and Ulysses.

Tier. Would, I could meet that rogue Diomed 1
I would ci'oak like a raven ; I would hode, I would
bode. Pairoclus will give me any thing for the
intelligence of thi=i whore: the parrot will not do
more for an almond, than he for a connnodious
drab. Lechery, lechery : still, wars and lechery ;
nothing else holds fashion : A burning devil take
them! [Kiie.

SCENE nr.

Troy. Be/ore Priam's Palace.
Enter HECTOR W ANDROMACHE.
And. When was my lord so much ungently tem-
per'd.

To stop his ears apaiust admonishment?
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.
. Hect. You train me to offend you; get you in:
By all the everlasting gods, I'll go.
And. &Iy dreams will , sure, prove ominous to-day.
Jiect. No more, I say.

Enter CASSANDRA.

Ca$. Where is my brother Hector?

And. Here, sister; arm'd, and bloody in inieut i
Consort with me in loud and dear petition.
Pursue we him on knees; for I have dream'd
Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.

Cos. O, it io true.

Hect. Ho ! bid my trumpet sound !

Cos. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet
brother.

Hect. Begone, I say: the gods have heard me swear.

Cos. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows ,
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.

O ! be persuaded : do not count it holy
To hurt by being just : it is as lawful.
For we would give much, to use violent thefts.
And rob in the behalf of charity.

Cos. it is the purpose, that makes strong the tow;
But vows, to every purpose, must not hold:
Unarm, sweet Hector.

Hect. Hold you still, I say;

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate :

340 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Acta.

Life every man holds dear ; but the dear man
Holds honour far more precious-dear than life. —

Enter TROILUS.
How now, young maa ? mean'st thou to fight to-day ?
^ndi Caaaandra, call my father to persuade.

{^E^'it Cassandra.
Hect. No, 'faith, young Troilus ; dofif thy har-
ness, youth,
I am to-day i'the vein of chivalry :
Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
And tempt not yet. the brushes of the war.
Unarm thee, go ; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
I'll stand, to day, for thee, and me, and Troy.

Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you.
Which better fits a lion, than a man.
Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me
for it.

Tro. When many times the captive Grecians fall.
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword.
You bid them rise, and live.

Hect. O, 'tis fair play.

Tro. Fool's play, by heaven. Hector.

Hect. How now? how now ?

Tro. For the love of all the gods.

Let's leave the hermit pity with our mother ;
And when we have our armours buckled on.
The venom'd vengeance ride upon onr swords;
Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth,

Hect. Fie, savage, fie !

Tro. Hector, then 'tis wars.

Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day.

Tro. Who should withhold me 1
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire ;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees.
Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears ;
Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn,
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way,
But by my ruin.

Re-enter CASSANDRA, with PRIAM.

Cos. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast:
He is thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy stay.
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee.
Fall all together.

Pri^ Come, Hector, come, go back :

Sc. 3. THOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 311

Thy wife hath dream'tl; thy mother hath had visions ;
Cassandra doth foresee ; and I myself
Am lil<e a prophet suddenli^ enrapt.
To tell thee— that this day is ominous:
Therefore, conie back.

Jlect. iEncas is a-field;

AO'S I do stand engag'd to many Greeks,
Even in the faith of valour, to appear
This morning to them.

pf^l^ But thou Shalt not go.

Uect. 1 must not break my faith.
You know me dutiful ; therefore, dear sir,
Let me not shame respect; but give me leaye
To take that course by your consent and voice.
Which yoii do Jiere forbid me, royal Priam.
Cos. O Priam, yield not to him.

Do not, dear father.
met . Andromache, I am offended with you :
Upon the love you bear me, get vou ui.
^ yExtt Andromache.

Tro. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl
Makes all these bodements.

(^yj O farewell, dear Hector.

Look, how thou diest I look, how thy eye turns pale !
Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents I
Hark, how Troy roars ! how Hecuba cries out I
How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth!
Behold, distraction, frenzy, and amazement.
Like witless anticks, one another meet.
And all cry— Hector' Hector's dead'. O Hector.
Tro, Away I— Away!—

Cos. Farewell.— Yet, soft :— Hector, I take nay
leave : , ■ p r-

Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive.

Hect. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaims :
Go in, and cheer the town : we'll forth, and tight ;
Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night.
Pri .Farewell: the gods with safety Stand about thee!
\F..rennt severally Priam and /lector. Alarums.
rro. They are at it; hark! Proud Diomed, betieve, ,
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.

As Troilus is eoinff out, enter, from the other side,
t»ANDARUS.
Pan. Do you hear, my lord \ do you hear?
7'ro. M'hat now I

Pan, Here's a letter from yon' poor girl.

343 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 5.

Tro. Let me read.

Pan. A whoreson ptisick, a whoreson rascal'y
ptisick so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of
this girl ; and What one thing, what another, that
I shall leave you one o'these days: And I have a
rheum in mine eyes too ; and such an ache in my
bones, that, unless a man were curs*d, I cannot teil
what to think on't. — What says she there?

Tto. Words, words, mere words, no matter from
„, i^® ' [ '^^saring the letter.

I he effect dotl operate another way. —
Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together,— .
My love with words and errors still she feeds ;
But edifies another with her deeds. [Sa.'eunt severally.
SCENE IV.
Between Troy and the Grecian Camp.
Marums: Excursions.' ^H^er THERS ITES .
Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another ;
I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable var-
let, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting foolish
young knave's sleeve of Troy there, in his helm :
I would fain see them meet ; that that same youno-
Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might senS
that Greekish whoremasterSy villain, with the sleeve,
back to the dissembling luxurious drab, on a sleeve-
less errand. O'the other side, the policy of those
crafty swearing rascals,— that stale old mouse-
eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and that same dog-fov,
Ulysses,— is not proved worth ablaekberry ;— They
set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, A\ax, against
that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles ; and now is the
cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achillea, and will
not arm to-day ; whereupon the Grecians begin to
proclaim barbarism, and policy giows into an ill
opinion. Soft ! liere come sleeve, and t'other.
Enter DIOMEDES, TROILUS following.
Tro. Fly not ; for,shouldst thou take the river Styx,
I wouli swim after.

P'o- Thou dost miscall retire :

I do not fly ; but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude :
Have at thee !

Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian !— now for thy
whore, Troian !— now the sleeve, now the sleeve !

[Ex-eunt TroUus and Diomedes,Jigkting.

Sc. 5. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 343
Enter HECTOR.
Meet. What art thou, Greek ? ait thou for Hec-
tor's match !
Art thou of blood, and honour?

Thcr. No, no r am a rascal ; a scurvy rruhng
knave ; a very filthy rogue .

Uect. I do believe thee ;— live. \^t3-tt.
Tker. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me;
But a plaifiie break thy neck, for frighting me I
What's become of the wenching rogues? I think,
they'have swallowed one another: 1 would laugh
at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself.
I'll seek them. [fia'if.
SCENE V.
Tht same.
Rnter DIOMEDES, and a Servant.
Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse ;
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid :
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty ;
Tell her, 1 have chastis'd the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof. „

Sen. I go, ray lord, [^.ii^ Servant.

Enter AGAMEMNON.
ylgam. Renew, renew ! The fierce Polydamus
Hath beat down Menon : bastard Margavelon
Hath Doreus prisoner;

And stands colussus-wise, waving his beam.
Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Epistrophus and Oedius : Polixenes is slain ;
Amphimacus, and Thoas, deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bnus'd : the dreadful Sagittary
Appals our numbers ; haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.

Rnier NESTOR.
Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles;
And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.—
There is a thousand Hectors in the field:
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse.
And there lacks work ; anon, he's there afoot.
And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls
Before the belchinp whale ; then is he yonder,
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edye^

344 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 5.

Fall down before him, like tlie mower's swafli :
Here, there, and every where, he leaves, and takes ;
Dexterity so obeying appetite, '
That what he will, he does ; and does so much.
That proof is call'd impossibility.

Enter ULYSSES.
Uli/ss. O, courage, courage, princes ! great Achiaes
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance :
±|atroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood.
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack'd aud cliipp'd, come
to him,

Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend.
And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it,
Roanng for Troilns ; who hath done to-day
Mad and fantastick execution ;
Engaging and redeeming of himself,
With such a careless force, and forceless care.
As if that luck, in veiy spite of cunning.
Bade him win all.

Enter AJAX.
■^jax. Troilus ! thou coward Troilus ! {Kvit.

Ay, there, there.
-Afisz. S)o, so, we draw together.

Enter ACHILLES.
'^'^i'l- Where is this Hector?

Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face ;
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Hector! where's Hector? 1 will none but Hector.

SCENE VL
Another part of the field.
Enter AJAX.
vJjin'.Troilus.lhou coward Troilus,show thy head !

Enter DIOMEDES.
Dio. Troilus, I say! where's Troilus?
■^!"'-, ,, What wouldst thou?

uio. I would correct him.

^jax. Were I the general, thou shouldst have
my olfice.

Ere that correction :— Troilus, I say ! what, TroUus !
Enter TROILUS.
Tro, O traitor Diomed !— turn thy false face,
thou traitor.
And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse !

Sc. 7. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 345

J)h. Ha ! art thou tTiere !

ytjtu'. I'll fight with him alone : stand, Diomea.

£)w. He is my prize, I will uol look upon.

I'ro. Come both, you cogging Greeks ; have at

you both. lE2-eunt,fghting.
Enter HECTOR.
Hect. A'ea, Troilus T 0, well fought, my youngest

brother !

Enter ACHILLES.
Aciiit. Now do I see thee : Ha !— Hare at thee.

Hector.
Jfect. Pause, if thou wilt.

jichil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan.
Be happy, that my arms are out of use :
My rest and negligence 'befriend thee now.
But thou anon shall hear of me again;
Till when, go seek thy fortune. [Exit.

jjcct. Fare thee well : —

I would have been much more a fresher man.
Had I expected thee. — How now, my brother?
Re-enter TROILUS.
Tro. Ajax hath ta'en ^neas ; Shall it be J
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
He shall not carry him ; I'll be taken too.
Or bring him o*F: Fate, hear me what I say!
I reck not though I end my life to-day. lExit.
Enter one in sumptuous armour.
Ned. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a
goodly mark : —
No ? wilt thou not!— I like thy armour well ;
I'll frush it, and unlock the rivets all.
But I'll be master of it :— Wilt thou not, beast.abide!
Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide.
^ [Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
7'he same.

Enter ACHILLES, with Myrmidons.
Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons ;
Mark what I say. — Attend me where I wheel :
Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath ;
■ And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Empale him with your weapons round about;
In fellest manner execute your arms.
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye : —
It is decreed— Hector the great must die. \Exeuni.

346 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 5.

SCENE YHI.
The same.

Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, rf^A^iW ; then
THERSITES.
Ther. The cucltold, and the cuckold-maker are at
it : Now, bull ! now, dog ! 'Loo, Paris, *loo ! now
my double-henned sparrow ! 'loo, Paris, 'loo ! The
bull has the game : — 'ware horns, ho '.

\_Exeunt Paris and Menelaus.
Enter MARGARELON.
Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.
Ther. What art thou?
Mar. A bastard son of Priam's.
7'her. I am a bastard too ; I love bastards ; I
am a bastard begot, bastard instruct&d, bastard in
tnmd, bastard in valour, in every thing illegi-
timate. One bear will not bite another, and where-
fore should one oastard ? Take heed, the quarreVs
most ominous to us : if the son of a whore fight for
a whore, he tempts judgment : Farewell, bastard.
Mnr. The devil take thee, coward ! \_Ea-eunt.
SCENE IX,
Another part of the field.
Enter HECTOR.
Hect, Most putrified core, so fair without,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day's work done ; I'll take good breath :
Rest, sword ; thou hast thy fill of blood and death !
\_Puts off his helmet, and hangs his shield behind him.
Enter ACHILLES a?id Myrmidons.
Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set;
How ugly night comes breathhig at his heels :
Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun.
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.

Beet. I am unarm'd ; forego this vantage, Greek.
/Jchit. Strike, fellows, strike ; this is the man I
seek. [Hector falls.

So, Ilion, fall thou next ! now, Troy, sink down ;
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. —
On, Myrmidons ; and cry you all amain,
Achilles hath che mighty Hector ' slain.

[A retreat sounded.
Hark ! a retreat upon our Grecian part.

A'/i/r. The Trojantrumpets sound the like, my lord.

Sc. 11. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 347

^cAiV.The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth.
And, stickler like, the armies separates.
My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed. —

. [S/ieaths his smrd.

Come, tie his body to my horse's tail ;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [EaeunC.
SCENE X.
The same.

Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS,
NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and Others, marching.
Shouts within.

■^gam. Hark ! hark,! what shout is that?

Peace, drums.
AchiUes!

Achilles ! Hector's slain ! Achilles *
Dio. The bruit is— Hector's slain, and by Achilles.
jijaa . If it be so, yet bragless let it be ;
Great Hector was as good a man as he,

^Igum. March patiently along : — Let one be sent
To piay AchiUes see us at our tent.—
If i.. liis death the gods have us befriended.
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.

\_Baciint marchiftg,
SCENE XI.
y^nother part of the field.
Enter ^NEAS and 'J'rojans.
■^ne. Stand, ho ! yet are we masters of the field:
Never go home ; here starve we out the night.
Enter TROILUS.
Tro, Hector is slain.

■^11- Hector !— The gods forbid *.

Tro. He'sdead; and at the murderer's horse's tail.
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.—
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed (
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy !
I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on !

Mne. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. .

Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so :
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death ;
But dare all imminence, that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone !
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba T
Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be callM,

343 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. Act 5.

Go in to Troy, and say there— Hector's dead :

There is a word will Priam turn to'stone;

Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,

Cold statues of the youth ; and, in a word.

Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away :

Hector is dead ; there is no more to say.

Stay yet ; — You vile abominable tents,

Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains.

Let Titan rise as early as he dare,

I'll through and through you 1— And thou, great-

siz'd coward !
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates ;
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still.
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.—
Strike a free march to Troy 1— with comfort go :
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

^Exeunt Mneas and Trojans.
As Troilus is eoinff out, enter, from the other side,

Pandarus.

Pan. But hear you, hear you I
Tro. Hence, broker lackey ignomy and shame
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name !

[EaiS Troilus.

Pan. A goodly med*cine for n.y aching bones!-
O world ! world ! world 1 thus is the poor agen-
despised '. O traitors and bawds, how earnestly arc
you set a' work, and how ill requited Why should
our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so
loathed ? what verse for it ! what instance for it .—
Let me see : —
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
TiU he hath lost his honey, and his sting :
And being once subdu'd in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.— .
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your pamtetf
cloths.

As many as be here of pander's hall.
Your eyes, half out, weep ' ut at Pandar's fall:
Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans.
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade.
Some two months hence my will shall here be mai!..
It should be now, but that my fear is this,—
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss :
Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for easeii ;
And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases.